


Teen Chaos on the Moon!

by InterNutter



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Crack, Gen, Teenage Transformation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-18 14:26:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 39
Words: 24,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13102074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InterNutter/pseuds/InterNutter
Summary: Tres Horny Boys are magically converted into teenagers with no memory of their adult lives. This is most definitely not an improvement.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The Adventure Zone roxxorz. Especially the Balance Arc. I just do HORRIBLE THINGS to them.
> 
> AN- This is crackfic. This is also your only warning.

Later investigation would reveal that Leon the Artificer saw Taako making a convoluted and incredibly profitable deal with Garfield, the Deals Warlock. But that was later. After all of the dust died down.

And speaking of dust…

Fantasy Costco was a disaster zone. Shelves and merch were all over the place and smoke rose from the wreckage. A chain of lunar employees had formed. Excavating anyone they could find as they moved merchandise out of the way. They were finding people in various states.

Bruised. Broken. Unconscious in all forms of repair.

And one stealing someone’s boots.

They were in a rubble bubble, with a satchel of holding slung over one shoulder and, having determined that Leon’s boots were about the right size, was evidently busy appropriating them for their own feet. The slender, youthful, Elven figure looked up at the rescuers as they opened the bubble up. Assessed them with quick and calculating eyes. Then said, “I didn’t do it,” and took off like a shot.

Killian was the only one concerned with the new fugitive, and pursuing him. The rest of the rescuers kept on with excavating the survivors.


	2. Chapter 2

Koko had no idea what was going on. The ridiculous Mr Bing-Bong umbrella wanted to cling to him and he was more or less okay with that. It could plausibly be magical. And there were some sweet boots on the guy currently cursing under a huge display of fantasy furbies. And he had busted boots and a sore need for good ones. So, while he was trapped in this particular weird arrangement of boxes and shelves, he pried the boots off of the cursing feeb and swapped them out for his own. And five seconds after he was nearly finished pulling the second boot on, this big, hulking Orc woman moved aside something huge.

There was only one thing to do.

Deny everything and run like fuck.

What the fuck was this place? There were domes everywhere. Not a hint of labyrinthine streets to hide in. Not a nook. Not a corner. Not a burrow or tumbledown or single place to hide. This was a high-ticket place and he knew that kids with  _ his _ background were definitely not welcome. There had to be a way out. He tried to weave between the buildings. Tried to find anywhere that he could at least hide.

And there was an Orc after his ass.

And this place was surrounded by cliffs so vertiginous that it was sickening. Or maybe it was up in the actual air. Koko didn’t have a lot of time to hang around and do a perception check.

He was faster and more nimble than the Orc. And if there were any other Elves in this place, he might hope that they’d recognise a kid in imminent danger and move to protect him. Most of the people here were more concerned with the wreckage of that one building he’d come out of.

Good news, nobody else was trying to stop him.

Bad news, he was running out of places to run.

Really bad news, there was an older human mage in front of him. Looking like they were readying a spell.

He jinked away from the mage. Unfortunately straight towards a fucking corner.

He slowed. The Orc gained on him. He sped up. Barrelled towards the wall.

And up it.

He relished the look on the Orc’s face as he used her like a vaulting horse. He rolled as he landed. Sprang up and away before anyone could get a new bead on him. There had to be  _ somewhere _ that was out of the way in this polished, expensive, hoity-toity hellhole.

“Hey!” someone yelled.

Koko ran even faster.

Somewhere behind him, someone intercepted the Orc. “You leave her alone, you big bully!”

What?

Koko skidded to a halt. Turned to look.

There was a human kid, not much older than Koko, blocking the Orc from getting to Koko. Unfortunately, he hadn’t seen the mage. Who was now taking careful aim at the human kid.

Options. Run or help? He only had a second to decide.

He cast Ray of Frost on the mage’s white oak staff. If she used it like Mages typically did, she’d shatter like a million GP’s worth of magic item on the ground. Into shards. Then he yelled, “Get outta here!”

And that was when the guards caught him.

Fuck.


	3. Chapter 3

Mags could tell that the raggedy-looking blonde was in trouble. The whole running in absolute terror thing was a dead give-away. And since he still had the hit points to stand and fight, he did that.

He rushed in.

The blonde was good at running. Pulling off some moves that Mags had to admire. He even cheered as they ran up the wall and flipped over the Orc like a pro! He let her rush past and got in the path of the Orc. “Hey! You leave her alone, you big bully!”

The Orc slowed. Looked very confused.

There was a flash of light off to Mags’ right. The blonde yelled, “Get outta here!”

Mags turned. Guards in blue and white livery had her. “No!” He tried to rush to her aid, but the Orc had him.


	4. Chapter 4

Merle had heard about it happening. People would take Dwarves and use them for dark purposes. His mother had had a deep-seated fear of it, and drilled him in what to do. So when the motley group dug him out of the things that had pinned him, Merle did what he’d been told to do.

Sit put, put his hands on his head, and say nothing. Then silently pray to Pan for his family to find him.

He ignored everything happening around him. The disaster area, the running Elf, the argument over the other side of a grassy quad. All of it. He just sat and waited for something to happen. 

There was a younger human kid wandering the scene, talking to all the people who had been in the rubble. Taking notes in a little book. This kid was working his way along the rows of the wounded. Asking them all kinds of questions about where they were and what they saw. If they knew what happened.

Merle knew better than to talk to humans. Humans were greedy, avaricious, nasty beings who stole young Dwarves and made them dig for valuables.

Some Dwarves were inclined to do that sort of thing  _ anyway _ , but Merle preferred the sunshine and nature. The wonders of Pan. He had to wonder how he’d ended up in such an artificial place as this one.

The human reached him. “Hello, sir. I don’t think I’ve seen you around,” he said in a strange new form of friendly joviality that had to be a bare-faced lie. “My name’s Angus McDonald, and I am -not to be braggy- the world’s greatest detective. What’s your name?” He offered his hand.

Manners fought with everything he’d been taught.

He wanted to return the smile and give his name, but he also remembered his mother telling him that she’d box his ears and send them to fantasy China if he disobeyed her instructions. Therefore Merle pointedly re-interlaced his fingers on top of his head and kept his mouth tight shut.

The human kid took notes anyway. Weird.

And when he was done, he spoke to the blue-and-white liveried guards, and they took Merle away. Down into the depths of this place. Far from the sky and the plants. Into the same cell where the Elf and the human had already been thrown.


	5. Chapter 5

That, Mags reflected, did not go according to plan. Kind’a predictable, actually. He got himself roughed up for protecting the helpless or the downtrodden, and didn’t get a lot of thanks, either. But this time was the first time he’d been chucked in  _ prison _ for it.

Not unkindly, he had to note. It was like these people in blue had more pressing problems and needed to put the kids in the playpen for a while.

A Dwarf kid joined them, and immediately took up a patch of floor. Sitting down with his hands on his head and not saying a word.

The blonde -an Elf- was huddled up in a corner and freaking out. Mags could have sworn that her hair was shoulder-length or longer, but her hair was now almost a ball of tight, tight curls. She had one hand holding each ear and she was in danger of passing out, she was hyperventilating so hard.

Mags went to the person in most need. Hunkered down to her eye level. Wow cool. She had mismatched eyes. Her left one was green, and the right an almost luminous amber. But those pupils were pinpoints.

“Miss?” Mags had to repeat that two or three times just to get her attention. “It’s gonna be okay. Just… like… deep breaths, okay? You’re gonna pass out if you don’t. Come on. You can do it. Slow that train down.” He did a few deep breaths to demonstrate.

She copied him at last. Tears were gathering in her odd eyes. “I’m a dude, my dude,” he said.

“Whoops. Sorry. My mistake. Um. Are you… okay?”

“You got no idea,” said the Elf. “You don’t know what they  _ do _ to thieves. You don’t know what they do to  _ Elves _ .” He got up to pace. “Listen. I dunno how I got here, or what happened… but I know I don’t fuckin’  _ belong. _ Did you  _ see _ this place? This is gemstone economy level shit. Someone like me?” He gestured at himself. Ragged, worn clothes in multiple layers. A patched satchel that likely contained everything he owned. And a weird, fancy umbrella that was hooked over one shoulder. “You? You can go home to your parents and whatnot. Curly, over there can go back to his beach resort. Me? They’re gonna chop my ears off if I’m lucky. Take my fingers. Take my hands…”

“Wow, I don’t think they’d do  _ that… _ ”

“I’M A WALKING FORTUNE IN DARK MAGIC INGREDIENTS OF FUCKING COURSE THEY WOULD!” He made fists in his hair. Paced as he dug into his curls. He was still breathing fast. Panicked. “I don’t even know why this fucking umbrella is stuck up in there, they’re gonna hang me for just that… Shit. If I hadn’t stopped for  _ you… _ ” he stabbed a bony finger at Mags. “I’d have found an Out.”

“Maybe... you just shouldn’t steal,” said the Dwarf. He’d evidently been holding this in for some time.

The Elf’s hands came down. Made fists. Mags could see fire burning in those odd eyes. “If it isn’t the cry of the Greater Pretentious Fuckmunch,” he singsonged. “Why don’t you just not steal? Why can’t you just work harder? Are there no workhouses?”

“Workhouses?” echoed Mags.

A snort from the Elf. “Yeah. Neither of  _ you _ have gone hungry a day in your lives. Especially Curly.” He stalked over and grabbed a fistfull of Dwarf belly. “Lookit this! I could render that for tallow and light a fucking music hall!”

“I’ve gone hungry,” said Mags. “Mom didn’t always get paid after Dad left for the wars, and…” he trailed off. “You don’t even have a mom, do you?”

The Elf went back into his former corner, back facing the only door. “Fuck off. Both of you.” He went quiet. Ominously quiet. Slowly, his hands came up to protect his ears, which were not only laying back, but pointing down.

The Dwarf was looking stunned. His hands finally dropped from his luxurious auburn curls to lay in his lap. “People… go without meals?” he said, like he couldn’t fathom it.

“Uh,” said Mags. “Try… ‘without food’. I mean… look at him. He’s skin and bone. Afraid for his  _ life _ .”

One scrawny hand disengaged from an ear to make a gesture with the middle finger. Mags gingerly patted his shoulder.

“There’s got to be relatives, though. RIght? Aunts and uncles and stuff? Cousins?”

One word from the Elf. “Dead.” And then a few minutes later, two more. “Raiders came.”

And now the Dwarf was going pale. “Who looks after you?”

The Elf was shaking. “...just me. Lea’ me alone.”

Was he  _ crying? _ Aw snapples. Mags sat so that there was maybe an inch between his back and the Elf’s. “I’ll be your friend,” he said, “My name’s Mags. What’s yours?”

Sniff. “...koko.”

The Dwarf got up so he could join Mags at guarding Koko. “I’m Merle,” he said. ”And… I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” He sat awkwardly between Mags and a wall. “I’m gonna do whatever I can to make sure you don’t get any bits chopped off.”

Extended silence, filled only by the sound of Koko trying to steady his breathing and failing his skill check. “...’nks…”


	6. Chapter 6

_ Okay, _ thought Lucretia.  _ This is beyond a royal mess. _ Things had escalated beyond  _ Clusterfuck _ levels and had exceeded her personal shit capacity. The good news was that they had everyone out of the Fantasy Costco with no apparent loss of life. The population tally on the moon remained the same.

The problem was… three teenaged kids had turned up, and there was no sign of her Reclaimers.

Well. That was what it seemed to be.

It didn’t take a genius to work it out. An Elf, a Human, and a Dwarf vanish from Fantasy Costco. And a  _ teenaged _ Elf, Human, and Dwarf spring up out of nowhere. Some of her best artificers were in the infirmary, and those kids were in the brig.

Fuck.

They’d been in the brig for  _ hours. _

The real question was… how much did they remember? Angus reported that the teen version of Merle was close-mouthed to the point of silence. Merle was… Merle usually remembered almost three hundred years. Three hundred and seventy? Somewhere near there. At the time he was a teen…

The Xenophobia Wars had been raging. People were wont to kidnap young Dwarves and use them as treasure-hunters.

If he remembered that time, then he was acting appropriate to his age. Teen Taako had taken off at a dead run from Killian. Appropriate for a young Elf within grabbing reach of an Orc…

Or it could all be them playing an elaborate goof on the entire facility.

Lucrecia’s capacity for random shit was already overflowing, so she decided to get it over with. If this was a goof, then the boys had plenty of chances to realise that this was not funny. And if it wasn’t…

Then Lucretia and her assembled mages and clerics could figure out how to unpickle everyone.

All things considered, she much preferred the former option. A goof would easily be undone. And maybe penalised, because of the property damage. Definitely penalised. Those three chucklefucks needed to learn that some goofs went too far.

They were clustered in a corner of their shared cell. Still teens. Looking very much afraid and, in the case of Teen Magnus, determined.

Magnus and Merle stood, blocking her view of what had to be a Teenaged Taako. Who was wearing Leon’s boots, for some reason.

“We won’t let you hurt our friend,” said Magnus. His voice hadn’t broken, yet.

“Yeah, leave him alone,” said Merle. “He’s suffered enough.”


	7. Chapter 7

Oh Gods, they meant it. They actually-- He’d done literally nothing but cause trouble and snarl at them and they were-- They were actually trying to protect him.

Koko pulled himself back up to his feet. Murmured, “Okay, you two. Just play along. We might even get a hot meal and a bed out of this.”

“Huh?”

“What?”

Koko turned on the waterworks. The baby doe eyes. He played wretched like a virtuoso for the big boss of fancy town. Affected a limp. Good thing his ears were already in maximum anxiety position, pointing back and down. “Please, kind lady, don’t punish these innocents,” he sobbed. “It was me. It’s always me.” Not a lot of humans knew about witch-eyes, so he used his to maximum effect. She wasn’t flinching. Cool. “I dunno how I made all that stuff fall down, but I did it. I know how this goes.” Hands folded as if in desperate prayer, he fell to his knees. “Just let these other two go. They didn’t do anything and…” a shuddering gasp. He bowed his head. “Before you hang me? I… I’d like… maybe... a hot meal? For a change?”

She gave him a round of applause.

What?

That was downright offensive. One last tear escaped him as he glared up at her.

“Quality material. Pity I know about the act,” she said. “Please stand up, young man.”

He did that. Resigned. “Well… I gave it a shot. Pick your favourite hand, guys.”

“I like both my hands,” said Merle, sticking them into his armpits.

“I’m not going to be chopping off any hands,” said the mage. And when Koko’s hands went to his ears, she added, “Or any other body parts.”

“So,” said Koko. “Just a fair trial and a hanging. Okay. Hope the growling of my belly doesn’t drown out your speech about virtue and the wages of sin.”

As if on cue, Merle’s stomach snarled. So did Mags’. Koko reflexively tightened the rope that served as his belt.

“I’m not about to execute anyone here, either,” she said. She opened the one door. “You may call me Madam Director. Please follow me.”

Koko let the Dwarf and the Human go first before following. Wherever they were going, at least it wasn’t a cell.

Madam Director was mumbling into a stone. Some kind of linking magic. Clairaudience? She was too low-voiced for Koko to hear it, and her instructions too brief.

They were lead back up through some corridors that twisted and turned without reason or rhyme. And finally into a large dining hall with some pretty neat furniture. And the biggest buffet table that Koko had ever seen.

Full.

To overflowing.

With.

HOT.

FOOD!

“I’ve died,” he said. “I’ve died and gone to heaven and you--” he pointed to Madam Director. “--are an angel in disguise and--” wait. If this was heaven... “I won’t let anyone know about the clerical error, ma’am. I know I don’t deserve anything like this, but I will not say a  _ word _ .”

“I don’t think I died,” said Mags. “We might have noticed something like that…”

Madam Director chuckled. “You are most certainly not dead, boys. Grab a plate. Eat your fill. We can disc--”

Koko was already doing that. He picked the biggest plate he could find and was already getting samples of everything there was to be had. Piling stuff on top of other stuff with eager abandon.

“-us the situation…”

“You can talk all you like, lady, just let me  _ eat _ and I’m down for whatever.”


	8. Chapter 8

Lucretia watched in increasing alarm. Taako was seriously going to attempt to eat his own weight out of the buffet, starting with the good quarter of it he had piled up on that one plate. Merle was the complete opposite, touring up and down the buffet line four times before selecting a rather more artistic arrangement. Magnus piled his plate with treat food.

Taako had a spork in his satchel, and commenced to shovel his mouth full. Packing his cheeks. The only sound that came out of him was a succession of little, ‘mmf’s as he ate as much as he could, as fast as he could. She almost missed it, but he untied his belt with one hand as he continued to stuff his face with the other.

Magnus used a knife and fork. So did Merle. And after a minute, one of them saw something Taako was doing and giggled.

It took a second for Lucretia to catch it, because Taako was also shivering. Taako’s ears were twitching as he chewed. Rather like a kitten's if it were being bottle fed. Of course they would. He was still young. He’d probably age out of doing that by his mid-twenties, but now… as a teenager… his ears wiggled and jiggled as he ate.

At least until Taako noticed the giggling and his ears went down in fuming anger. He spoke one word, and that with his mouth full. “Assholes.”

“Do not make fun of what others can’t control,” she said, in full Madam Director mode.

The giggling stopped. There was some clearing of throats.

“Sorry,” said Magnus.

“...sorry,” mumbled Merle.

Lucretia waited until the boys were picking at their plates. “What’s the last thing each of you remember before you came here? Please take turns.”

Merle actually put up his hand. “One minute, I was listening to the campfire song? And the next, I was under a bunch of boxes.”

“I’d just got thrown down the short cliff for trying to defend this little kid who was being bullied,” admitted Magnus. “I might have knocked my head? And then someone was pulling me out of the big mess in there, and I saw Koko running from this  _ enormous _ Orc, like, four times his size. So I had to help. You know?”

Taako -no, Koko- slowed down eating, but didn’t stop. “Uhm. I was running from a bunch of Orcs who wanted -um- my body parts. There was an old badger hole I crawled in… Uhm. And then I was in a bigger hole and some dude with sweet boots was under a bunch of boxes. My boots were shit, so… yeah I helped myself, so what?”

Lucretia took a deep breath. “Some… strange magic has been wrought over all three of you. Um. You… were… full-grown employees of our organisation.”

“Horseshit,” said Koko. And then he belched. “I know I’m not gonna live that long.”

“You did. You do. You had…” She pinched the bridge of her nose. This temporal paradox stuff was making her head hurt. She needed someone like Barry to explain it, and he… wasn’t here. “The point is… you’re all teenagers, now. And we need to unriddle what’s happened to you.”

Koko was scraping his plate. “So… I’m not in trouble? For anything? Not the boots  _ or _ the umbrella?”

“The Umbrastaff is bonded to you. It’s your spell focus. As for the boots…” Lucretia sighed. “We can give you all better clothing. Those shoes aren’t yours, Koko. You’re going to have to give them back.”

Koko stripped them off. Revealing a pair of socks that were not so much heavily darned, as damned for all eternity. He sort of threw the shoes near her own feet. “Easy come, easy go.” He scraped his plate clean, shoving the last scraps into his mouth. “Can’ ge’ da foo’ back tho’.”

“I wouldn’t want to retrieve it,” she allowed. “The problem is… The three of you have… had… a very difficult job. We can’t send you out on that while you’re…” she fumbled for the right word.

“Feebs?” suggested Koko.

“Kids?” suggested Magnus.

“Lost?” said Merle.

“...like this,” she finished. “We could wait and see if the spell wears off. Analyse what’s happened. Try to work out how… to bring you back. But we want to make sure it’s safe. You’re valued employees, we don’t to lose you. But… since you’re minors… You’ll need caretakers.”

“I’m out,” said Koko instantly. “I’ve done the foster system thing and it never ends well. They abuse you, they use you, and the next thing you know, you’re scraping food outta their trash can and livin’ in a doghouse.”

“Really?” said Merle.

“Just one charming example from my fucked-up life,” murmured Koko.

“That will not happen here,” insisted Lucretia. “Everyone in this facility works for me. If I find out about  _ any _ kind of abuse or mishandling of  _ any _ of you. They will be  _ worse _ than fired.”

“Hanged?” said Koko.

“Worse.” Lucretia took a breath. “We have… a means by which… we can make the world forget about someone. Can you imagine what it’s like to be wandering the world with no idea who you are, where you belong, and having the entire world overlook you while you are lost. Including any loved ones.”

Magnus and Merle both shivered.

“Don’t have any loved ones left,” said Koko. “And I could probably do with not being hunted… but… Being ignored by nice clerics would suck, I guess.” He shrugged. “Guess this works for people who  _ have _ connections.”

Never before had Lucretia wanted to hug the capability to love back into Koko.


	9. Chapter 9

They had a big enough space for her to take over one of their bedrooms, and she could bunk up two of the boys in one’s former space. Lucretia made certain to remove all the boys’ adult belongings, and spent an educational three hours in the restored Fantasy Costco before she called in the cavalry to help wrangle them.

Firstly, Koko had never seen such abundance in his remembered life. And after the third time he set off alarms by helping himself to some of the merchandise or… ‘looking with his hands’... it was clear he needed someone riding herd on him to make certain he didn’t try to lift half the store.

Magnus… was just fucking hyper. He was running from hot-spot to hot-spot and yelling variations on, “Holy shit!”

Merle just drove her completely bonkers with enquiries about how much of whatever she was looking at was ‘all natural’.

There was a scream from another aisle.

“SORRY, SWEETHEART, THAT’S DEFINITELY MORE THAN YOU CAN AFFORD!”

Koko came bolting out of there and dived into the relative concealment of the winter wear rack.

“Were those furs ethically trapped?” asked Merle.

There was a distant, “Holy shit, holy shit, holy SHIT! Directoryagottacomehavealookseeatthisamazingaxe!”

_ I probably deserve this, _ she thought as she reached for her Stone of Farspeech. “Team Sweet Flips… I need some assistance with… the boys.” She parted the coats as she ended the call. Looked down at Koko huddled on the floor.

“...please don’t let the talking cat thing eat me?”

Lucretia rubbed at her migraine. “Garfield is not going to eat you. Nobody here is going to eat you. Calm.  _ Down. _ And since you’re here in the clothing section, go ahead and pick out a few things.” Shit. Budget limits. “You can each have three tops, three bottoms, five pairs of socks, three underpants, one set of PJ’s, and a set of cold weather gear.”

“I sleep skyclad,” said Merle.

“PJ’s are obligatory in this establishment.”

Koko had picked out a gargantuan fur-lined cloak and was now somewhere in the middle of it. All she could see of him was a shit-eating grin somewhere inside the hood. “Ye-e-e-es,” he drawled.

“Koko, that’s way too big for you.”

“That’s the point, M’darm,” he said. “I can wrap myself up in it and use it as, like, a tent and shit? And it’s  _ real _ nice and  _ warm _ . I think I’m starting to thaw…”

He had shivered when he was eating, she recalled. And the Taako she knew had abhorred the cold with a vengeance… that had to be born from being a skinny and underfed kid who would naturally have trouble regulating his own internal temperature.

“Let’s get you something a little more practical for moving around in,” she allowed. “That has to be heavy.”

“Fuck moving, I live here, now.”

And then Team Sweet Flips turned up.

Koko, freshly extracted from the titan-sized coat, went white. He actually froze, rigid with fear. Mismatched eyes darting from Orc to Dragonborn and back again.

“Koko, meet Killian and Carey,” said Lucretia, indicating each in turn. “It’s their job to help me make sure the three of you boys behave while we’re here.”

Carey was the one to pull down a fur-lined cloak that reached Koko’s ankles. She draped it around him. “How’s this one?”

Koko was still rigid. “I’m very sorry about everything I might’a done to your girlfriend and I think I need the privy…”

“HOLY SHIT THAT’S AN ACTUAL REAL LIVE DRAGON!”

Merle said, “Do you breathe fire? Do you roast people alive?”

“Depends,” said Carey. “How do  _ you _ taste?”

Koko fainted.

After rousing him, the next puzzle was getting them all to pick out some clothing. And shoes. And making sure Koko had a sleeping sack. The other two insisted on having one, too. And then it was another tour de force to pick out at least some basic furniture.

It was a long, long,  _ long, _ and agonizing day.

_ Why did I volunteer to do this? _


	10. Chapter 10

It had been a long, tiring, and very confusing day for Koko. And now there was this place. It was a palace. Well. It was a palace compared to every place he’d lived in. Each room was bigger than his lost home. Three bedrooms. One set up in boring grandma style, and that had to be Madam Director’s. Actually, three suites. Each had a bathroom - indoor plumbing! And each bathroom had a privy, a tub with weird little spigots, a closet looking thing with even more weird spigots, and a sink. Spigots everywhere.

“Where are the pumps?”

“You don’t need them. We have running water.” Madam director demonstrated, showing the boys how they worked.

“That can’t be natural,” said Merle.

“Are you suggesting that we have somehow managed to create  _ artificial water? _ ” accused Madam Director.

“Well… it’s the future, so…” he shrugged. And then made the ‘I dunno’ noise.

“Guys,” said Magnus. “I got it. We got  _ rich _ .”

“Sweet,” said Koko. He inspected the bottles lined up in the bathroom closet. Shampoo. Soap. Moisturiser. Fancy stuff. Yeah. He’d pick this kind of stuff if he were a rich Elf. Cologne? He took an experimental sniff. Wow. He smelled fucking sexy as a grownup. The stuff lined up by the tub was even more amazing. Bubble bath, bath salts. Aromatherapy. Bath  _ milk _ . Bath roses… Just about everything that could have the word ‘bath’ tacked in front of it, his older self had had. Not only did he grow up to be a rich Elf, he got to be a fucking fancy-ass one, too.

Madam Director had said that their job was ‘difficult’. That could mean anything from taxing on the noggin to getting dragged back on a stretcher.

And loads of these labels had stuff about relaxing, or de-stressing, so… “Our grownup job is fucking dangerous, isn’t it?”

Madam Director bit her bottom lip. She had a lot more sorrow in her eyes whenever she looked directly at him. He could tell she found the other two annoying, but he was… pitiful. Which was an okay thing to be around a sad-eyed old lady. He could get away with more. “Sadly, yes,” she confessed. “The fate of the world hangs in the balance, and… Koko… do you know what a glass cannon is?”

“A dumb idea?” said Merle.

Madam Director glared him down. “It’s a term for someone who dishes out the heavy hits, but… well… isn’t so great at taking damage.”

“So, basically a wizard,” said Koko. “And one who gets dragged back to be patched up.” He put a container of Bath somethingorother back where it had come from. “For digs like this, I’d do it.”

Mags and Merle got to share a suite, because Madam Director had taken over one. They had beds on the opposite side of their room and an almost invisible line of demarcation. Merle insisted on all-natural everything and Mags...

Wow.

Mags had picked out a candy-coloured eyesore for everything in his space. The boy was attracted to shiny things, and now he had a sort of… bead curtain made out of gigantic circular things in a dazzling rainbow of colours, garish bedcovers and fluffy rug so deep that it could almost double as quicksand.

Merle’s half of the room was… brown on brown with accents of a green so dull that it was nearly brown.

Koko’s comment on all of this was, “Deesh. Do you become a monk or something?”

“Nature is the way of the world,” Merle recited. “Only by accepting Pan’s bounty can we hope to succeed in life.”

“Suit yourself,” Koko dismissed. “We got a sweet deal here and I plan on enjoying the bounty no matter where it came from.”

“Same here,” said Mags.


	11. Chapter 11

It was just past dawn when Mags woke up to clinking and clanking from the new place’s kitchen. He stretched and padded out past the still-snoring Merle to see who it was. And it was not Madame Director.

Koko was still in his footie pyjamas and had put on that huge fur cloak. And an apron. He was moving around from spot to spot. There was a pot and three frypans on the cooktop. There was something delicious in the oven, by the smell of things. And Koko was also mixing and whipping and rolling out stuff like he was possessed.

His hair was all fluffed up. Not into a curly ball, like in the cells, but there were definitely curls and they were definitely wild. He was hopping between activities like a flea on a griddle. And working in the dark. Mags only knew Koko had seen him by the amber and green glowing lights that indicated where his eyes were.

“Holy--”

Urgent shushing. Koko raced over and clamped a hand over Mags’ mouth. “Don’t. Wake. Her,” he whispered, equally as urgently. “We have a sweet deal here. Okay? We play nice, we get all the stuff we want. We don’t…” Here, he bent down and lifted up the edge of the rug.

It was a long, long way down. “Capisce?”

Mags’ stomach felt like it was falling all the way down to ground level. Whispered, hardly daring to make a sound, “...holy shit…”

Koko put the rug back down. “Yeah. That stuff about forgetting? They have way easier ways of dealing with someone. Come on. I’ll let you do the easy stuff.”

Which was rolling and mixing and occasionally flipping things. The stuff in the oven was bread, muffins, and what looked like cupcakes. And they were working on puff pastry for a series of danishes when Merle finally stumbled into the living room. The button on the back of his hemp longjohns had come undone and the unlucky could see three quarters to four fifths of his entire butt. He still had his eyes mostly closed, and mumbled his way towards one of the many covered dishes on the table.

Koko was over there faster than light and smacked Merle’s grasping hand. “Not for you,” he whispered.

“Ow!”

“Ssh!”

“You smacked my  _ hand _ with a  _ hot spatula! _ ”

“You want some more?” threatened Koko, keeping his voice down. “Shut. Up.”

Louder. “I don’t have to do anything, you’re not in charge!”

Koko put a hand over Merle’s mouth. “Honestly, I couldn’t care less if they threw you off’a here, but I happen to like the deal they have. Shut. Your fucking. Mouth.”

Something happened. Merle must have done something gross because Koko shrieked and recoiled like he’d been hit with a hot iron.

“You did  _ not _ just fucking  _ lick _ me, dude! What are you,  _ five? _ Gross. Now I have to wash my hands again.”

Merle spat. “P’tah. Ptui. Euw. What was that  _ on _ there? Was it even natural?”

“No, it’s all fucking fantasy plastic. I made all this beautiful food out of fantasy plastic so you wouldn’t fucking eat it.” He stormed over to the kitchen sink and hosed his hands down with soap and steamy water. “It’s all one hundred percent polyputthekettleon, my man.”

“I think you mean polypropylene,” said Mags, helpfully. “Or poly-monounsaturates.”

“‘S all polyputthekettleon to me, broski. I don’t even know what any of it really is.”

“It’s poison,” insisted Merle, not even bothering to try to join whisper town. “Artificial alchemy is invading the natural bounty of Pan and poisoning our bodies! We ferment the sweet, sweet grape of the vine and mull it in lead pots so that it tastes even sweeter, but are we thinking about how  _ lead _ was never meant to be eaten?”

“Dude, I’m using fucking enamel. And maple sugar. Chill.”

“Do you know what cooking  _ does _ to natural food?”

“No,” said Madam Director, behind Merle. “Go ahead and tell me everything.”

She was in her nightshirt, which was just as severe and ornate as her daily wear. There was a blue night mask with cute, silver sleepy-eyes stitched onto it and a not-so-cute expression on her real face.

“Good morning,” she said with evident sarcasm.

Koko’s face was a desperate rictus. “G’morning, M’darme. I woke up kind’a early, and I thought I’d make you breakfast, but I didn’t know what you liked, so. Um. I… kind’a made… every breakfast? Take what you want?”

Merle was reaching for another covered dish. 

Koko moved like lightning, swatting him with the spatula again. “You idiot! The one in charge always eats first. That’s the fucking  _ rule. _ ”

“There’s enough food here to feed an army,” said Madam Director. “Surely, there’s enough here for everyone to eat at once.”

“Uh…” said Koko. There was an extended squeak as he flailed for something to say. “I’m not quite done cookin’ things. You- uh- you just. Um. Make yourself comfy. Have anything. I’ll. Uuuuuuhhh… I’ll finish up and  _ join _ you. Yeah. Join. Later.”

Mags, still folding and rolling pastry, added, “There’s gonna be  _ Danishes _ .”

“Funny story, I actually had a grunkle Danish. Only there was an apostrophe, so it was Da’nish.”

“Did he invent the Danish?” asked Mags.

“Naw. He fuckin’ loved ‘em though. Every flavour there was...” Koko started to list his way through all the different variations on the Danish.


	12. Chapter 12

Merle found a clean plate and started to go through covered dishes. Meat. No. Cooked this. No. Cooked that. No. He had tolerated the buffet stuff because it was for  _ everyone _ and therefore he wasn’t allowed to be picky. But this was a home. They should have real food.

“Is any of this vegan?” he asked.

“You want it cooked like they cook it Veeg-ass, you cook it yourself,” grumbled Koko as he cut and folded pastry.

“Guess that makes it a lost Veeg-ass,” quipped Mags. And then he crooned, “Viva-aaa… lost Veeg-ass…”

“Get an apple outta the damn fridge,” mumbled Madam Director.

Merle was getting grumpy. “Why are you being so mean?” he complained. “All I’m trying to do is save your bodies from the modern poisons we surround ourselves with on a daily basis. If you had any idea what this stuff could do to your bodies…”

“Food keeps my body  _ alive _ , hombre. I don’t care what it’s made out of.”

Madam director had found some things she liked and sat. “Merle, you can’t convince someone who is  _ starving _ that they should restrict their food options. Mags. Koko. Thank you so much for all the effort you’ve gone to. I think the two of you can stop making foodstuffs now.”

Koko was taking bread out of the oven and checking the other things in there. “Yeah sure. In a minute. I just wanna get these croissants on real quick.”

“And the Danishes,” added Mags.

“Yeah, them too.”

Merle found an apple in the fridge and some carrots, too. Did his utmost to ignore the delicious smells coming from underneath the covered trays. It was all cooked. It was all polyputthekettleon. Therefore, it was all poison. But, oh Pan, help him… it looked and smelled so delectable…

Madam Director was taunting him. Relishing every bite of her… delicious-looking… NO! Unsanctioned meal… that smelled… so… tasty… “Mm-mm-mm,” she hummed. “So delightful. Why it hardly tastes poisoned at all.”

“...should fuckin’ hope not,” muttered Koko from oven level. He wound a timer. Lined up a whole bunch of trays.

Merle nibbled on his carrot and tried not to inhale.

Mags finished by washing his hands and then scooted around to the table. Helping himself to an almost criminal amount of bacon and eggs.

“Leave some for Koko,” insisted Madam Director.

“Yeah, like the existing mountain of food won’t be enough,” grumbled Merle. “Did you know the average person carries around  _ five pounds _ of undigested meat and pastry in their colon?”

“Gross,” said Mags, around his mouthful of bacon. He was busy buttering a fat slice of fresh bread. “An’ kind’a cool.”

“I  _ wish _ I had five pounds of  _ anything _ in my tubes,” said Koko. He was leaning on the counter and watching things baking. And gathering things together in a bowl. “Hey Merle. Bet you’d love a Danish. Peach okay?”

“Cooking food kills vital enzymes and ruins the beneficial attributes of Pan’s Bounty,” Merle preached.

“It’s okay. This one’s raw.” And Koko presented him with the bowl. It contained two handfuls of wheat, a peach, an egg, and a sealed phial of milk. “Some assembly required.”

Mags snorted.

Madam Director spoke. “Koko… that was uncalled for.”

“Telling me I’d made poison was uncalled for,” said Koko. “I’ve been busting my hump on this lot since two A.M. and here he is telling me it’s gonna kill people? That’s the worst. That is literally the worst.”

“You’ve been up since two in the morning?” said Madam Director.

“...um…” Koko wouldn’t look at anyone. He sort of hid behind tidying things up. Putting things away. Probably feeling two feet tall out of pure chagrin. “...maybe... earlier?”

“Were you sleeping? Or meditating?”

More cleaning. More lining up of little scraps of pastry on a tray. “...tried to sleep…” Koko mumbled.

“So he missed a few winks, so what?” complained Merle. “He thinks it’s okay to make fun of good, raw food!”

“And  _ he _ thinks  _ my _ cooking is  _ poison! _ ” raged Koko.

“Merle. Stop. Koko. You too.”

Koko seethed. So did Merle.

“Take a look at the table, Merle. How many different foods do you see?”

He did. He actually looked. “Forty-some, I guess?”

“Each one of those took time and effort to prepare. Each one took care to think of. Each one was made whilst thinking about others. Is that any less holy than picking an apple from the tree, or harvesting a carrot from the ground?” Madam director asked.

“But it kills the--”

“I don’t want to hear about enzymes. Koko did a lot of hard work, this morning. Mags even helped out. What did  _ you _ bring to the table?”

Now it was his turn to feel two feet tall. “...’n argument…”

Mags had cut a slice of bread and held it out to Merle. “Have some bread. That’s a fruit, right?”

“There is a bread _ fruit, _ but… um…” Merle took in that honest and guileless smile. The mild disapproval of Madam Director. And finally, the stony, resigned and tense silence of Koko. “Okay,” he said. He took a bite. “Oh Pan… sacrilege is delicious…”

“...y’r welcome…” mumbled Koko. He whisked around the table and added something to Merle’s place. “Try it with this.”

When Merle looked, the bowl of ‘raw danish’ was gone, and in its place was a jar of honey. He spread some on the slice and recited, “For the flowers in the meadow…”

And to his shock and surprise, everyone joined in, “...for the fruit upon the trees, for the honey on our table, we thank you, little bees.”

“Well,” said Madam Director. “There is  _ one _ thing we have in common.”

Koko was the one who had a second stanza. “For the harvests in the autumn, for the cider and the mead, for the comb that makes our candles, we thank you, little bees.”

“Holy sh--”

“Do. Not,” said Madam Director. “I never knew there was more of that.”

The timer pinged, and out came the last of the pastries. Koko turned off everything with an air of finality. Tidied up the last of the cooking mess. He did not look like a kid about to enjoy this complete breakfast.

Merle thought outside himself for the first time this morning. “...’samatta? Are you sick?”

“I’d… hoped… you’d all be done,” Koko said.

Mags said, “Well, it’s a huge spread. Siddown. Enjoy your good work.”

Merle tried some of the eggs benedict. “Yeah, you should. It’s amazing.”

Koko filled his plate with a resigned air. Sat heavily as if under a cloud of doom.

“Koko,” said Madam Director. “If something’s wrong…”

Koko looked down at his plate. “Nothin’ you can fix.” And then he flipped up the hood before he dug in.

Oh.

Shit.

Merle felt less than an inch tall because he was the one who started laughing at Koko’s ear jiggles. And pointed them out to Mags.

“...I said I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

“For the record,” said Mags, “I thought your little kitten ear jiggles were adorable.”

Koko spared a moment to give each of them the finger.


	13. Chapter 13

NO-3113 was more or less prepared for this. Each member of Tres Horny Boys had been turned into teenagers. With no memories of their adult lives. What she was not prepared for was how adorable they were.

Merle had thin, patchy, peach fuzz of a beard that almost matched his abundant auburn curls. He was a little chubster, and wore cotton and hemp with plain-looking sandals.

Mags had yet to hit anything resembling a growth spurt, and was therefore the shortest of the trio.

And Koko, the juvenile version of Taako… had to be the one somewhere inside a relatively gigantic cloak. Thick shoes poked out from under the hem as he walked.

Only Koko didn’t freeze on sight of NO-3113, and that was because of the hood obscuring most of his vision.

“Howdy, boys,” she said. “Don’t y’all be afraid of me, now. Mah name’s Noelle, and I’m part of the team tryin’ to work out what’s up with the magic cast all over y’all.” She lifted Koko’s hood. “Y’all need to see t’--”

Koko shrieked and took off.

The Director just groaned and got out her Stone of Farspeech. “All hands be on the lookout for a teenaged Elf in an oversized fur cloak. Just… herd him back to the infirmary complex. Try not to make him faint. Thanks.”

“Come on, boys,” NO-3113 cooed. “I ain’t no harm. I’m here t’ help.”

They were pretty much fixed into place. Not daring to make any sudden moves.

She tried a different tack. “Good boys get lollipops,” and showed a few in one of her four arms.

“Are they all nat--” Merle the younger stopped cold at a mutual glare from the Director and Magnus. “...sorry.”

Magnus the younger may as well have had stars in his eyes. Taking in the wonder of science that was NO-3113’s mechanical form. “You’re so cool…” he breathed. “Do those arms come off?”

Plus la change… “Ah’ll take off mine if you take off yours.”

“Okaynothanks.”

And that was when Killian and Carey walked in. Carrying a huge fur cloak with feet and hands spilling out of it.

“He ran straight into my arm,” said Killian. “Knocked the wind out of him.”

“Sorry, Madam Director,” said Carey, “But he went out like a light.”

He was unconscious, and when his hood fell down, it revealed long, straight hair that would have reached his shoulder blades if he was standing.

“I thought he had curly hair,” said Magnus the younger.

“Elven hair is like, super magical,” said Madam Director.

NO-3113 accessed her databanks. “Morphing Hair Syndrome. A physical trait solely found in Elven... twins…” Oh. No. Oh no. Oh no, oh dear...

“He clearly doesn’t want to talk about it,” said Madam Director. “So let’s all… not mention it. He deserves that small mercy.”

“Sure,” said Mags.

“...m’kay,” mumbled Merle.

“Of course,” chorused Killian and Carey.

“Awright,” said NO-3113. “Let’s just get y’all into the analysis chamber ‘fore anyone else has any problems.”


	14. Chapter 14

When Koko woke up, there was a young human boy by his side. Dark skin. Glasses. Fancy clothes. Indomitable enthusiasm. “Hello, sir.”

“Did anyone get a description o’ that cart?” Koko murmured. “And who are you?”

“I’m Angus McDonald. I knew you before the -uh- teenifying that’s happened to you.”

This kid did not have a deceptive bone in his body. “‘Zat so. Uh. What… Where am I?”

“You’re in a little recovery nook in the analysis chambers, sir. You… um… ran into Killian. Literally, this time.”

He could remember that. “Not trying to sound racist or anything, but before I got here, I was literally running for my life  _ away _ from a bunch of Orcs. That kind’a thing leaves a lasting impression. Your Killian fucking terrifies me, little dude. That is, when this entire  _ place _ isn’t terrifying me.”

“I understand that, sir. That’s why I volunteered as a sort of ambassador for you. To help you with what’s safe and what isn’t, sir.”

“Yeah. Living in the future. Of course there’s like… metal… golem… things…”

“Robots, sir,” said Angus. “Noelle is a robot. Well. Sort of a mechanical golem with an earthbound soul possessing it, but ‘robot’ is way catchier and easier to say.”

“She… doesn’t drink blood or anything? No… dark magic?”

Angus sighed. “I’m not going to lie to you, sir. A blood sample will be necessary as part of the analysis process… but Noelle is not fueled by dark magic. She’s just a ghost in a machine, sir.”

_ Koko, chill out, _ said a voice. It was almost like it was shouting, but very far away. He turned to look, but only found the handle of his Umbrastaff. Well. It was magical and bound to him, so hearing it talk mustn’t be anything special. So he decided not to mention it.

“I like the use of the word ‘just’ here,” he said. “Like this happens all the time?”

“It’s only Noelle, sir. She’s… she’s special.”

Right. “And the Orc?”

“She’s a valued employee of this organisation, sir. Her job’s just as dangerous as yours. Maybe more so. She’s kind, and friendly, and… well… madly in love with Carey. But don’t say anything about it. They’re still working it out.”

“Carey?”

“Carey Fangbattle, sir. She’s the blue-scaled Dragonborn lady. I think you might have met briefly in Fantasy Costco.”

A vivid flashback that had him breathing quickly and breaking out in a cold sweat. “Pointy teeth,” he said. “Very pointy teeth. And really sharp claws.”

Angus frowned. “Do you always fixate on things that could kill you, sir?”

Koko scrubbed a hand through his hair. He couldn’t say ‘of course’ because this fancy boy wouldn’t get it. “Just… try to fit yourself into my life for five seconds. Shuffled between relatives since I was four. Homeless since twelve. I’m only halfway through being thirteen and seriously in doubt of my ability to see tomorrow. Got all that?”

“Gosh, sir, that sounds mighty rough.”

“Yeah. No fuckin’ kidding. And on top of that, I’m like, thrown into this… place. The sort of place where people like me get body parts cut off before they get hanged for even  _ being _ there. I’m fucking  _ terrified. _ Every. Minute. I don’t know the rules, here. I don’t know how things go. And every other turn, there’s someone there who really ought to be after my ears or worse, given my past experience. And then there’s this big, metal, mechanical golem thing, I don’t know what it does. What it’s gonna do. Of fucking course I freak out! I’m a million miles away from the real surface of the world, at the mercy of a fancy lady who will not smile at all, and surrounded by species that want to kill me, back when I’m from. I should be constantly wetting myself.”

“It’s actually twenty-one miles, sir. We’re only in the middle of the stratosphere.”

Koko stared at him. “Remind me again how you’re supposed to be helping?”

“Sorry, sir, but I do like to be accurate.” He bit his lip. Looked out of the door that was the only egress from this little room. “I know some of the stuff here can be scary. It scares me, sometimes. But it’s all harmless, I promise. A-and… it’s okay for you to hold my hand if you think I’m scared.”

That was some world class bullshit. Honest bullshit, but bullshit all the same. He must have been coached how to say it like that, because deception was not this kid’s forte. Koko smiled in spite of himself. “I think I’m startin’ to like you, kid,” he said.

A big, open, honest smile. He was still shedding his baby teeth. “Really, sir? Thank you! You have no idea how much that means to me.”

Koko took his hand when he really wanted to wrap this kid up and fight off the forces of darkness that would inevitably kill that optimistic spirit. “Don’t fall in love, we could die tomorrow.”


	15. Chapter 15

Mags was waiting and bouncing outside the door. He could hear Koko talking to Angus. He couldn’t quite focus on the words, because some of the polyputthekettleon in the lollipop had his brain going off like fireworks. But he was so happy and he wanted to tell his new Elven friend that it was going to be so cool.

He threw his arms wide when they emerged. “Koko! Ango! It’s gonna be fine, Koko. They got all kinds of cool machines that can look at your insides and not hurt your outsides, and there’s this bed that goes whoosh-ka whoosh-ka and they can show you what your skeleton looks like after and when Noelle’s done taking your blood, you get a  _ lollipop _ !” He pulled his out of his mouth to show Koko. “They’re  _ amazing _ ! They’re nearly done with Merle so it’s your turn. It’s fun!”

Koko blinked at him. He seemed to be moving a little slow. Everything seemed to be moving a little slow. He turned to Angus. “Was he using real words?”

“Maybe there’s something in that one that he’s not used to, yet,” allowed Angus. “You do get a lollipop when it’s all done, sir. They’re pretty good.”

Mags zipped over to the room where Merle was getting his blood done. Where Merle had just got his blood done. The teen Dwarf saw Mags with a stick poking out of his mouth and tentatively licked the wrapper.

“Let’s take that cellophane off, hun,” said NO-3113. “It’s way better without that li’l ole wrapper.”

Merle did so. Licked it cautiously. “Mm. Sweet.” A second lick.

His pupils enlarged. A slow smile spread across his face. A giggle escaped him. “This is the single most wonderful thing I have ever tasted,” he announced. “Thanks be to Pan.” And then he stuck it in his mouth.

“I know, right?” Mags enthused around his. “It tastes like fireworks looks!”


	16. Chapter 16

Lucretia had heard every word Koko had had to say about his remembered life. It only confirmed the suspicions she had had since she met him again after the mind wipe. Without Lup by his side, he had good reason to be cold, prickly, and distant. He had reason to give others good reasons to reject him first. He had reasons not to trust.

Without Lup doing the hoping for him, he had reason to be paranoid.

He had good reasons to be afraid for his life, every waking hour.

No  _ wonder _ he’d done what he did that morning. It wasn’t a peace offering, per se. It was a sacrifice to someone who he believed had the power of life and death over him. And he’d looked down past the rug and drawn some erroneous but obvious conclusions about a potential and ill fate.

And worse, he would not trust kindness. He would be waiting for the trap. The hook. The quid pro quo. The price. And he would expect it to be heavy.

_ There’s a million ways to say ‘I love you’, _ she reminded herself. All the way from subtle to gross. And she decided to start with what he loved best. Good food.

While Koko was undergoing the fantasy CAT scan, she checked in with her secretaries. Davenport was fine. He’d continued on his routine as normal. No upsets. Yet. But someone else had had to drink her coffee, since she was absent from the office.

It was little details like that that broke her heart all over again.

Greater good. She had to remember that this was for the greater good. They’d forgive her when they knew.

She was… almost… certain of that.

Lucretia returned to the analysis chambers just as Koko was getting his blood drawn.

He was watching in naked fascination as NO-3113 filled the syringe. “The barber usually does this with a scalpel and a bowl,” he said. “You gonna even me up, later on?”

Angus’ face was an open book, and it said,  _ What the fudgsicles? _

NO-3113 seemed to take it in stride. “That ain’t necessary, pumpkin. Medicine’s changed since y’all were really this age.” The drawn blood went into a phial for the warlocks and scryers to do their thing. “One last question for ya.” She sprayed the puncture with her healing potion.

“Yeah?”

“What’s your favourite flavour?”

Angus spoke, “I’d like a lime one, ma’am. So I can show Koko how they work, please.”

“Um.” Koko was scanning the array of not-even-natural colours. “Is there… strawberry?”

“Sure as sugar, sugar,” and NO-3113 handed them over.

“There’s an easy-pull tab in the red line, sir,” Angus demonstrated. “And once the cellophane’s off, you can eat the lollipop.”

Koko, following Angus’ lead, put it in his mouth.

His eyes went wide. His hair frizzed right up and then laxed straight down again. His pupils went from pinpoints to way too wide to be logically possible. He swallowed, and a manic smile began to overtake his usually-distrustful expression.

And way, way too late, Lucretia remembered that young Elves really,  _ really _ should not have processed sugar. Especially when it was loaded with artificial colours and flavourings.

_ Oh shit _ wasn’t even a close reaction, but it was all she had. “Oh, shit…”


	17. Chapter 17

It is here, dear readers, that this author must switch to an omniscient viewpoint to properly illustrate the ensuing disaster. Because not one single employee of the Bureau of Balance had a proper perspective. Least of all the teenified Tres Horny Boys.

Because they were currently…

Out.

Of their fluffy little minds.

On a near-lethal combination of artificial colours, ingredients, flavourings, and heavily processed sugar.

All things considered, the Elven for, “[I fucking LOVE this stuff!]” was only a terrifying portent of doom in retrospect. But everyone agreed that that was the starting point.

Bullet time.

Koko leaped off of the chair he’d been seated on and embraced NO-3113 with all four limbs. He felt like he wanted to hug the world and began right there with the people in the room with him, and the one who had given him this delicious, not-even-nearly strawberry-flavoured treat. He flipped off of NO-3113 and landed on Angus to deliver a hug, his thanks, and an extremely out of character kiss to the boy detective’s cheek.

Koko cartwheeled away to his BEST FRIENDS, Mags and Merle to hug them, too, and propose that now was playtime and they should all go find the best fun possible in this glam zone.

Alas, to unaugmented ears, it sounded like, “HeyI’mborednowletsgohavesomefunIbetthisplacehassomerealcoolshitlet’sgofindittogether!” And slightly impeded by the presence of a Not Natural Red lollipop.

Mags and Merle, being the only people who could understand him at this point, instantly agreed and took off with him.

They had energy to burn.

Koko, usually victim to the cold, felt very warm indeed and stripped off the gigantic fur cloak that would have marked him as an easily-seekable target to the Bureau staff. On the other hand, he still had the clothing tastes of a drunken jackdaw on some very interesting pharmaceuticals, so he remained very easy to spot in an ensemble of neon rainbows in garish combinations and also glitter and sparkly plastic gems.

Hardly anyone in the Bureau knew that the adult Taako was a flip-wizard, since it was a chore and a half to merely get him out of bed in the mornings, as opposed to the afternoon. And one interesting factoid was that he learned his acrobatic skills rather early during his time as an outcast on the road.

Merle soon discovered that he could make plants grow just by singing hymns of Pan, and was now raucously turning random spots of the Bureau’s well-manicured landscaping into a fucking verdant jungle with abundant fruiting bodies.

Magnus, lover of all animals, crossed the path of Garfield, the Deals Warlock. Which was bad luck for the latter, because he exclaimed “KITTY!” and instantly gave chase. The fact that Garfield could levitate did absolutely nothing to daunt his enthusiasm.

Lucretia, already fifty paces behind and severely out of breath, ineffectively chased whichever teenaged horny boy happened to be closest. A feat not helped by the fact that Koko kept using her as a vaulting horse.

A band troubadours, specialising in brass instruments, were in a cafe nearby. They understood that they were hired to give the world’s best violinist a break or at least cheer the sad sack up for a change. They also understood that the older lady was the big boss and assumed that this was some form of audition. They began to play a lively accompaniment to the shenanigans unfolding around them.

_ Ba da da diddle diddle da da diddle diddle dum te dum te dum dum… _

Team Sweet Flips attempted to intervene, NO-3113 armed with fantasy horse tranquilizers. But despite being peak performers, they were no match for a hyperactive Elf who now favoured handsprings as a mode of locomotion. Hugs as a manner of grappling. And sugar-laced, sticky kisses as a method of attack.

And worse. Sugar-sticky Tres Horny Boys could climb up domes and buildings like fucking spiderman through velocity and inertia combined. Which meant that they could get into otherwise secured areas and generally fuck shit up by being the unanticipated free electron in a pool filled with rods of Uranium 238.

Spells came super easy to Koko. All he had to do was have a thought with the Umbrastaff in his hand and magic shit would happen. He could transmute glass into maple toffee in a blink. Make Merle’s trees into something out of Willy Wonka’s factory with a touch. Turn the walls into Halva and find even more people to hug and kiss by breaking through and doing so.

Merle followed, trailing flowers and vines as he did so, screaming, “REJOICE IN PAN’S BOUNTY!” as he went

“I’m on a horse! I’ve got a horse!” shrieked Koko in manic glee. “I ride my horse! I like my horse!”

Garyl, rather different to his usual model, thanks to Koko’s youthful imagination, said, “Yo, there’s no need to rub it in, little man. Also. Has it occurred to you that this situation might be going horribly wrong?”

“I LOVE PAN’S PLANTS,” Merle sang incredibly off key. “AND THE PLANTS ALL LOVE ME! TOGETHER WE HAVE JOLLY PARTY HA HA HO HO HEE HEE!”

Merle never could hit a tune. Not in a bucket. Not in a barrel. Not at point blank range with careful guidance from the best and most patient of angels.

By now, most full employees had realised that these kids needed to be restrained, and began to act accordingly.

By now, all three boys felt way too hot to be wearing shirts.

By now, Koko was having the time of his fucking life. “I AM A WIZARD KING,” he hollered.

“Yeah somethin’s wrong with you, m’man,” said Garyl, unheeded.

“I got the kitty! I got the kitty!” Singsonged Mags, happiest rough boy in the world.

Bit by bit, mistake after mistake, the gathered forces of the Bureau hemmed the boys into an increasingly confined area. They were backed into a balcony and Team Sweet Flips was just about to capture them all when Koko spotted something on a tier below.

“Yes!” He bellowed. And flipped off the balcony. Barely casting Featherfall in time to stop him hurting himself. 

Merle rushed to look over the edge. He saw what looked like a demon and Koko wrapped around their neck.

Mags, reluctant to let go of the giant kitty, followed.

“We gotta help him,” said Mags.

“‘Kay,” said Merle. He summoned vines for those two to clamber down.

The remaining adults rushed to get to the same area.

And now, necessity demands that we introduce Kli’maq the Tiefling gardener. It was his job to maintain the Bureau gardens and keep up a supply of fresh vegetation to meet the demands of an extensive staff. Some of whom are vegan or vegetarian by necessity. He’s a kind soul, despite his people’s demonic origins, and generally quiet and unassuming. Cats like him for no apparent reason and he would only admit under torture that he’s fond of the little murdering bastards himself. It would take a nat 20 on perception skills to find the little saucers of meat that he leaves out for the host of felines that act as the Bureau’s pest control department, and the real reason that dogs are not allowed on the moon.

Cats are clever enough to turn away in time from the spaces where a creature could leap off the moon. Dogs are not.

And at this point in time, with Bureau staff scrambling madly to get to the moon’s hanging gardens and three rowdy, sugar-addled teenagers approaching at their own speed, Kli’maq is talking to his plants.

Not in an obscene way, like the adult Merle might. And certainly not in the demonic way one might expect of -say- A. J. Crowley of  _ Good Omens _ fame.

None of that nonsense, no siree.

He cutesy-talked them.

“Hewwo my diddle darlings,” he cooed. “Comin’ along nicely, aren't we? I can see 'oo has some big ol’ boo'ful fwuits fo’ me. Dere's a goo’ twee… Dere’s a  _ goo’ _ twee…”

At which point, a rather exuberant and hyper young Sun Elf landed on him with a gleeful, “Whazzap, Rakshasaaaaa!”

Record scratch.

While it is widely known that Tieflings are demonic in origin, they are as a species generally unflappable when it comes to prejudice. For the most part, they are very used to it. 

However.

The words that just came out of Koko’s mouth would result in a similar reaction if, in the middle of 1960’s Harlem, during the peak of the race riots, a drunken white cop embraced a resident and stranger with, “What’s happening, my [N-SLUR]?”

Similarly, words like ‘Teef’, ‘Sebekkin’, and ‘Shaba-doo’  _ might _ be okay for Tieflings to use with other Tieflings, but they are not for outsiders. If they are said at all. Even now, in an age of acceptance and enlightenment, they are very rarely spoken and often used as epithets. When they’re not considered deadly insults.

Not so much, over one hundred years ago, when Koko came from. When they were common terms of address and seen as relatively harmless.

Koko is about to employ all of them.

We now return you to the fraught situation about to ensue.

Kli’maq dropped his watering can and wrest the Elf from his grasp. Young. Not even fully grown. Barely halfway past fully grown and thin as a rail. There was a lollipop stick hanging out of his mouth and he didn’t have a shirt on. And he seemed extremely pleased to see Kli’maq.

“You’llunderstand, won’cha?” said the Elf. “You know what it’s like, right? Teef?”

Kli’maq was not amused. “I don’t know which of my kind thought it was funny to teach you to say that, but when I find them…”

“Wait. Wait. My accent’s a li’l off, but… I mer͞ely͏ ̸s҉e͞ek shelt͡er͘ f͢r҉om҉ t̨h͡e ̵hunte͝rs… Shaba-doo.”

This was it. This was the moment he feared. The lust to kill. To destroy. To burn a place to cinders with infernal magics. To live up to the ancient stereotypes of his people. Only the Elf’s youth and the surrounding plants currently saved this whelp. “Explain why you think this is funny…  _ Bunny. _ ”

Which, it might be noted, is also an old slur against young Elves. Because both had long, mobile ears and were wont to hide in burrows.

It slid off Koko like water off a duck. “Naw f’r serious, I’m real glad t’ see ya. Hung with a bunch’a Teefs a few months ago. We’re slick. Settle a petal, Sebakkin.”

Kli’maq, about to teach this Elven whelp a lesson for the rest of his life, then got landed on by two more youths.

“Turn Away Evil,” said the heavy one. Laying on hands with a divine touch.

Which hurt. A lot.

“Leggo’a my buddy,” said the lighter one.

And before things could escalate, Carey Fangbattle entered the scene. “Oh holy shit,” she said. “Sorry. So sorry. There’s been -um- a magical fuckup? I’ll take that,” and she scooped the half-naked Elf lad out of Kli’maq’s arms. “He’s literally from a hundred years ago. Probably more. He doesn’t know that he’s saying offensive shit. Promise.”

“Look me up, I’ll cook you a nice Hades Heartburn,” offered the Elf.

The other two didn’t miss a beat.

“Unhand him, Dragon!” The lighter kid took off.

“Charm Animal! No wait. She’s not an animal. Hey, hold up!” And then they were all gone. Save for a few winded staff members.

Kli’maq snagged the most red-faced one. “Dude. What the fuck is going on?”

“Three Reclaimers… magicked… to teens,” panted the staff member. “It’s all going bad.”

_ Going? _ Wondered Kli’maq. It took him twenty minutes and some of Avi’s best brandywine to settle his nerves.

To this day, the Bureau will not talk about the scorch marks on the ceiling of the dome. Nor the fact that some of them look amazingly like hoof prints. They do not mention the recurring ant problem in the Humanities block. Nor do they want to talk about the persistent vines in Resource Acquisition.

All things considered, Garfield was lucky he got off with just sticky fur.


	18. Chapter 18

Three hours and a lot of clean-up later…

Lucretia watched over three slumbering teen forms as she cooked and concocted something quiet and simple. Angus’ Grandfather’s Gator-aid for the inevitable sugar hangovers. That was simple enough. The hard part was keeping processed sugar out of it. Which meant she’d had to order supplies of maple sugar and honey.

Koko really had cooked every possible breakfast. And she kept getting fantasy texts about that from the also-inevitable scavengers. If he was going to keep doing that sort of thing as a teen, he might as well cook for ev--

Oooh. Now that might be a stroke of brilliance.

Koko was paranoid about keeping his place here, and giving him a job that he loved might help him calm the fuck down for a change. The down side would happen when this spell was reversed, and an entire Bureau would expect amazingly tasty Taako-made food.

But she needed to look after him, now. Make sure he was at least comfortable in this situation.

And she had to do it while Merle was being a spoiled brat and Mags was just hyper about everything new.

Lucretia doubted that Merle would demand a job, but making him work at his organic vegan food would probably do bratty-Merle a few favours.

Koko had nailed it. If Merle wanted it cooked like they cooked it in Veeg-ass, he could make it himself.

Now. Magnus. Active boy, loved animals. Making Angus, the staid and proper, keep tabs on him was… a bad match. Maybe Carey and Killian could teach him a few things. Or at least wear him out.

The soup she was making smelled wonderful. Of course it did. She’d used the recipe from Taako’s book. Something to soothe what would definitely be touchy stomachs and equally touchy heads.

Koko came alive for the smell. And audibly winced and gripped his head. “...oof…”

Lucretia kept her voice to a whisper. Poured a large glass of the Gator-aid. Added ice and a straw. Hurried to hand it to him. “I know you don’t like the cold, but you need to drink this. Sip slowly at first.”

Koko did so. Stopped when he started shivering.

Lucretia gave him back his enveloping cloak. Helped him finish it up. “There’s a soup I made. I hope it’s all right. It should help you out.”

Mismatched eyes looked up to her. Not at her. To her. Like he was amazed that anyone could care just like that. “You made me food?”

“Well. Technically, I made food for all three of you. And it’s just a pot of soup.” She helped him up.

“I’m not in trouble?” His mind was already racing towards dismemberment and hanging, no doubt.

“There might be a few people who are upset with your actions. But… word has gone around about the chain of events. You could not help what the lollipop did to you.”

There was a bowl for Koko, and a spoon, and a healthy helping. Lucretia made sure he didn’t see the cookbook. There was no telling what that sort of thing would do to his mind under the influence of this spell.

“There was… a Tiefling?” said Koko.

“Kli’maq. One of our gardeners.”

“I was tryin’a be friendly an’ he was acting like I killed his mom,” said Koko.

“Times have changed since you were really thirteen,” Lucrecia tried to explain it. “The words you used in friendliness…  _ aren’t _ friendly, any more.”

Koko gingerly sipped soup. For once, not bolting everything put in front of him. “Guess I fucked up real bad, huh?”

“The situation has been adequately explained,” said Lucretia. “But a personal apology may help things.”


	19. Chapter 19

The cafeteria was buzzing, and Kli’maq was enjoying a salad when a large, fur-lined cloak approached.

“Um,” said a too-familiar voice from inside the hood. The Elf kid. Taako the younger. Koko. “For what it’s worth… I’m sorry. I know I said some things that… weren’t… nice. Guess I forgot this is the future from my P-O-V… and…” A deep breath. A sigh. “When I’m from? Tieflings and Elves kind’a… had the same short end of the stick, y’know? I must’a thought you were a friendly face with everyone after me and… I honestly didn’t want to hurt you. Um. Can I… do anything? I mean. I don’t have a lot of marketable skills, but I can cook a bunch? If… you want?”

“Leave me alone,” growled Kli’maq.

The hood lowered even more. There was a suggestion of a slouch. “...’kay.” And then he turned to walk away. One arm raised up through a covered slit in the cloak to wipe his face as he went.

_ Fuck, _ thought Kli’maq. “Hey. Kid.”

Koko froze.

“Back here a sec.”

There were boots under there. The suggestion of a body in the middle of that thing. “Yeah?”

“What is with that cloak? I’ve seen you around, you wear it everywhere.”

“I’m cold everywhere.” A shrug. “I like being warm. Cold sucks.” And then a belated, “Sir.”

Kli’maq reached over and lifted the hood enough to see the kid’s face. That was definitely Taako. Mismatched eyes and golden hair and dappled skin. But the distant arrogance that encapsulated the grown asshole wasn’t there. Just a perpetual attitude of worry and fear.

“That recipe you named,” Kli’maq said. “Hades Heartburn?”

“Yeah?”

“That’s been a stereotype for our kind so long that we stopped making it. The recipe’s lost. You show me how to make it, and we’ll call it bygones, okay?”

Koko straightened up. Brightened significantly. “Holy shit, yeah. That stuff’s the fucking bomb, m’dude. How many we cookin’ for?”

“I might know two or three of my kind who could be interested.”

“Okay, we’re gonna need maybe a pound of meat, uh. A hand of chilli peppers per diner, fuckloads of ginger, uh… a nice, big, fat horseradish…”

“Slow down, kid. I can’t remember all that.”

“I got it writ,” Koko pulled a tome out of the satchel under his cloak. Uncle John’s Elven Bathroom Reader. And in the copious margins, in crabbed and cramped handwriting, and amazingly in Common, were little notes on recipes. “Here it is,” pointing to microscopic print indistinguishable from other microscopic notes. “You want I should copy it bigger? Or are you good?”

“I still want you to walk me and my buds through this. You can help me shop when I’m done here.”

“Shop,” echoed Koko. “Wow. We doin’ it  _ fancy. _ ”


	20. Chapter 20

Way more people than just four Tieflings were interested in seeing how Hades Heartburn came together, and before anyone could stop it, it became a seminar. Lucretia watched, stunned, as  _ Sizzle it Up! _ was germinating in front of her eyes. Koko had yet to learn what  _ stage presence _ was, but he was already showing the enraptured audience The necessary steps before speeding the processes up to Lunch Rush speeds.

“Now, I’m used to like, sticking it all in a cauldron and letting it simmer,” explained Koko. “But today, we have casserole dishes. These are not for your average campfire. It’s stove only, and the temperature should be around three hundred degrees for a nice, slow cook. Y’know. On the road, it’s whatever you can scavenge, and you want  _ that _ stuff to be soft by the time it’s your turn to chew it.”

Laughter from the audience.

Gods. His self-deprecating humour had started fucking young. Lucretia found herself wanting to spoil this kid so hard, just to make up for the life of suck that had happened to him before she’d met him.

“Should he even be playing with knives at his age?” enquired Merle the younger.

...and then there was the kid she wanted to fucking strangle. “Do you have a viable alternative that he’d have access to when he came from?”

“Uuuuhhhhhh,” said Merle.

“Maybe you should learn how to prepare food,” said Lucretia. “It’s an essential survival skill. Everyone should know how.”

“Yeah,” said Mags. “Like, I can make pancakes and cook eggs and stuff like that. And look at Koko go! He’s like, what? Three years younger than you?”

“Two and a half,” murmured Merle.

In his impromptu stage, Koko removed a casserole dish from the oven. “Here’s one we prepared earlier.” And wafted the scent towards the audience. “And if you ever have grit in your eye, just smell that baby. That’s the stuff to drive away any given miasma.” He clapped his hands. “That’s round one. Try a little. It’s good food.”

Koko would obviously learn, at a later date, to plate up the samples instead of letting people swarm. But he was thirteen. It would take time to learn all his stagecraft.

The smell hit the back row, where Lucretia waited with the other two. Koko had not been wrong. It was a smell that brought tears to the eye. And all the Bureau fire-eaters were fucking loving it.

Including the local Tieflings, who were adding dashes of wasabi, sriracha, or horseradish, according to their personal tastes.


	21. Chapter 21

Fact. There was a four in the morning.

Fact. Merle the younger had never encountered it before today.

Fact. Koko was annoyingly used to waking up at, around, or before the crack of dawn. He wasn’t an annoying morning person, full of pep and sunshine. This was just his every day.

Koko was with some of the kitchen staff and they all had tump baskets

Merle was with the looming presence of Madam Director, who had an almost comically oversized mug of a bitter brew. The cup itself bore the legend,  _ Yes, I need this much coffee. _ She sipped it as the morning progressed.

“Since you have such exacting standards for your food,” she said. “I thought it best that you learn to feed yourself.”

Merle looked at nature’s bounty in its fullest capacity, and had no clue how to proceed. But he couldn’t tell this woman that. “Are you certain that this is all one hundred percent organic?”

Koko, still within earshot, vented an annoyed, “Oh my  _ Gods _ …” but he didn’t stop gathering.

Madam Director glared down at him from her coffee. “You’d rather farm everything yourself?”

Abject terror. He had no idea how to do that. Sure, when he was high on sugar and polyputthekettleon, he could summon the love and bounty of Pan, but now? “...no…”

“Then settle for what’s there,” said Madam Director. “Grab a basket. Help yourself. I’ll pay for whatever you get.”

Fuck.

Merle would never admit out loud that his parents still did everything for him. So he grabbed a basket and went wandering through the paths like he actually knew what he was doing.

His parents might have tried to teach him this stuff, but he thought it was unimportant. There were markets and everything.

He did vaguely remember that he should not eat anything he didn’t recognise. Smart rule, but dumb kid following it. All of his food had been prepared for him. Peeled. Sliced. Rearranged in various ways. So he kept walking. Up one path and down another. Up stairways and down stairways. Trying to pretend like he was being choosy about what he put in his body and temple.

In actuality - not having a clue.

“You lost, Curly?” said Koko, strolling up behind him.

Merle nearly jumped out of his skin. “I am merely seeing what’s available before I make my final selection.”

Koko had seemingly mislaid his tump basket. He still had his satchel of holding and a lighter coat to keep off the morning chill. “That boat sailed long about your third circuit, kemosabe. You’re lost and you don’t know what to do. And anyone who even cares can tell at a glance. Now. Listen. I did all my gathering and I have like half an hour before I’m due in the kitchens. So ask for help or tell me to fuck off.”

Be laughed at or starve? Merle said, “...help?”

“Sure I can help. What do you want to make?” No laughter. No judging. Just… sincerity.

“Uh. I’ve never actually… made… anything. Ever.”

“Okay…” he coughed his way around the word ‘feeb’. “So what are you in the mood to eat?”

He didn’t have to think. “Mama’s stuffed pumpkin roast.”

“Do you know what she stuffed it with?”

“Uuuuuuhhhh…”

“Right. And you’re anti-meat, so… walnuts, oats, barley, katniss, sweet potato, granny smith apples… how are you with the spices?”

“Salt’s okay?”

“Uhuh. Baby tongue. Right. Uh. Just a little nodule of ginger. Nutmeg. Cardamom. Ooh, and basil.” Koko snapped his fingers. “Follow me.”

It was a whirlwind tour of the gardens and how to recognise food as it grew in the wild. Koko showed him as much as possible as fast as he could. Talking ninety to the dozen and giving instructions so fast that Merle couldn’t keep track of all of it.

“Got all of that?” said Koko.

“Uhm,” said Merle. “I dunno…”

“Eh, maybe Madam Director can help you out. I gotta run, but first,” he pulled aside some leaves to reveal a huge pumpkin. “Please use this baby right here for the main piece. It  _ needs _ eating up.”

Merle had never heard that phrase in his life. He’d never conceived of the idea that he was doing food a favour by eating it. He watched in confusion as Koko sawed it off its stem and rolled it onto the path. It was big. Really big. And it was definitely too heavy for Koko to lift.

“Don’t worry, it’ll shrink a bit when it’s cooking. You want to cut a circle out around the stem--”

“Koko!” Someone called.

“Fuck. Good luck with it all. See ya.” Koko raced off.

Leaving Merle with a giant pumpkin and no idea how to get it back to Madam Director.


	22. Chapter 22

Koko had a job. An actual, real, paying job. Merle was apparently learning how to make food with Madam Director helping. And it was weird, but she seemed to know the recipe Merle was trying to do just by looking at the ingredients.

She made sure he at least had porridge to eat - one of Koko’s creations, for sure. Mags was pretty sure by now that Koko was actually incapable of making anything  _ plain. _ And this stuff was sweet and flavourful and so delicious that Mags had thirds.

He tried to stay still and quiet and watch the process, but he just couldn’t. It was a bright new day and he wanted to see everything that he could in the future. Watching boring old cooking in a boring old flat was not what he thought of as what he would be doing in his future.

So he snuck out while Madam Director was showing Merle how to crack open walnuts, and getting repulsed by the knowledge that Koko had done it with his teeth. He caught the transport cabinet -elevator- up to the main level and started wandering around. There was a huge queue at the cafeteria. Of course there would be. Koko was cooking.

And a lot of scary grownups. Every species in the world was here. And maybe a few that Mags didn’t recognise.

And two kids.

Mags ran over to them. Halfway there, he realised that one of them was not a kid, but a full-grown Gnome. Fancy blue clothes like Madam Director, and a shock of red hair and a neat moustache to match.

The other small figure was Angus McDonald. Actual real live genius. And perpetually glad to see a thickie like Mags. “Hello, sir! Everyone heard that… Koko was cooking and there’s something of a rush going on.”

“Davenport,” said the Gnome behind him. He seemed to be agreeing with Angus.

Nobody said anything about this. And Mags didn’t know what to do about it. “Hi. I’m Mags.”

“Davenport.”

Oh… kay. He looked to Angus for guidance.

“Oh. That’s right. You don’t remember. Davenport usually works with Madam Director, and… um. I don’t know the whole story? But generally, all he can say is his name.”

“Hungry?” said Davenport, “You can cut in.”

“Thank you,” said Mags. “I already had a heaping bowl of porridge, but… I guess there’s a few corners I can fill.” He already knew that a Koko cooking extravaganza was not to be missed.

“Davenport,” said Davenport in a you’re-welcome kind of way.

“Everyone in the base is kind-of looking after him while Madam Director is looking after you three, sir. And it’s my turn this morning, so we’re getting a big breakfast.”

The cafeteria doors opened and a cloud of delicious food stink wafted along the queue. Everyone who inhaled lifted two inches off the ground as it passed. There was a universal hum of delighted anticipation that rose and ebbed like an ocean wave.

Mags felt his tummy rumble. He had more corners than he had thought.

“Dav-en-port,” enthused Davenport.


	23. Chapter 23

Someone was playing a song Koko knew. And the words fit, almost, with his happy mood. “Heaven,” he crooned, “I’m in heaven/ And my heart beats/ So that I can hardly speak…” Flip. Flip. Turn. Check. “And I seem to find/ The happiness I seek/ When we’re out together dancing cheek to cheek…”

He poured a sip of a cooking wine to taste it. Making all the squeaking noises like a pro would. He swallowed it, though. It was nice stuff. He added a slather of it to his current opus. “Heaven. I’m in heaven/ And the cares/ That hung around me/ Through the week/ Seem to vanish/ Like a gambler’s/ Lucky streak/ When we’re out together/ Dancing cheek to cheek.” He waltzed a little with his Umbrastaff instead of grabbing a stranger.

...there was a stab of sorrow and loss through his heart that there was no-one to dance with, but it only lasted an instant...

Koko became aware that the hustle and bustle of the kitchen had come to a screeching halt.

He stopped. Froze. Suddenly terrified.

“What’d I do wrong now?” he asked, his voice a ghost of its former self. He clutched the Umbrastaff tighter for what thin comfort a gigantic frilly umbrella could offer. “I didn’t mean it?”

His legs trembled for him to run, but he knew that there was no way off the base but a long and terrifying step down. But all the same, one foot drifted backwards out of a ground-in instinct.

One step. Two steps. And he bumped into a grownup in Minstrel’s Motley.

“Dude,” he said in a depressed-sounding voice. “You have a voice like an angel.”

“Oh… kay…?”  was starting to hyperventilate. “Why’s everyone lookin’ at me like that?”

It was one of the kitchen staff’s turn to say something. “You… your grown self… You never sing. Ever… And you're  _ amazing _ .”

The grey tunnel that was edging into his field of view began to wither and fade. A slow, crooked smile began to sneak onto his face. “Really?”

A chorus of agreement, “Abso-fuckin-lutely!”

The bard in motley readied his rosewood violin. “Da Capo?”

“The what?” said Koko.

“Uh. Start over?”

“Oh. Sure.” He got back to work while waiting for the lead in. “Heaven…”


	24. Chapter 24

Angus had seen the fantasy security footage from when the Teen Horny Boys were locked up, just after the big accident. He vividly remembered Koko’s outburst.

_ I’m a walking fortune in dark magic ingredients! _

Having to avoid that threat, all on his own, had to have lead to his current lingering trust issues. Angus thought he knew about not having much backup. But the Rockport City Watch had more or less adopted him, and now, so had the whole moon.

Taako must have had a really miserable and lonely childhood.

Which was why it was such a shock when he finally entered the cafeteria and heard what he heard.

The thirteen-year-old version of the quixotic and mercurial mage was  _ singing. _

“...and if we should lose love/ We have the right to love again…”

Angus was only eleven, but he still felt his heart throbbing at the sound of that voice. It was so beautiful…

“...holy shit,” murmured Magnus.

People who saw Koko as a fortune in parts had to be blind, deaf,  _ and _ stupid. The Elven boy was a feast for the senses. Not just ethereal beauty, but a host of talent as well. Angus couldn't understand why Taako wasn't wildly popular for all of it. Why he hid this metaphorical light under a bushel.

Growling bellies were almost barking for the abundance of tasty possibilities by the time Angus could get three trays. He had calculated the optimal loading of plates, bowls, and cups so that little space was wasted on not-food. And he showed Mags and Davenport how to do the same.

The only problem was choosing what to have.

There were eggs, three ways... Ham and tomato omelette. Benedict. And scrambled with interesting-looking bits of food incorporated into them. There was some kind of noodle concoction that smelled eye-wateringly spicy. There was the aromatic porridge that smelled like Candlenights. There was something incorporating rice and vegetables and a wine sauce. There was fried tomato and fried potato. And the nigh-famous cinnamon-apple pancakes and Angus regretted that his little boy stomach could only hold so much food.

Mags was also having the same trouble. For his now-fifteen years, he was still waiting for a growth spurt to happen, and was just starting on the hollow legs stage. He loaded up on the protein and the pastries, and filled his cup with the spiced milk mixture that Koko had seen fit to incorporate in a samovar, with some fantasy plastic shot glasses for those who wanted to sip a sample.

Angus kept away from it, being lactose intolerant, and got a portion of salmon with eggs benedict to go with the waffles. Mags, on the other hand, filled his cup up as much as he dared.

And then Koko was there, adding another tray of deliciousness to the buffet It seemed to be made mostly of sliced vegetables that had been fried in something glistening.

Angus knew for a fact that Koko was regularly eating to beyond satisfaction, but he’d yet to put on a smidgen of width. Either he was one of those kids who never gained an ounce until their growth spurt… or some kind of magic was keeping them that way.

Madam Director was still waiting on the results of the scans, scrying, and analysis, but Angus could tell something was hinky. You didn’t eat like Koko ate and not at least put on a little bit of bulk.

And the problem with researching magic stuff… was that if it was above your level, you just couldn’t put it all together correctly. There were higher-level spells where Angus couldn’t even comprehend the explanation of what they did.

But Angus did get a clue, that morning.

After he and his little group sat to eat, Leon the Artificer entered the cafeteria. Escorted by NO-3113 and looking very weak. The queueing crowd let him bypass waiting, and some even applauded his vertical status.

Mags, right by Angus’ side, whimpered and started breathing fast. Staring in terror at an otherwise harmless Gnome.

Koko, adding a tray of fried aubergine to the buffet, caught sight of Leon and went white as a sheet. Which was quite a feat considering his natural skin tone. The young Elf screamed, “NO!” And bolted into the kitchen as if all his fears had become flesh at once. Angus would later learn that Koko fled into the enormous pantry and wedged himself into an impossibly tight space well out of normal access. It took the assembled cafeteria staff half an hour and some of Johan’s playing to coax him out of there. And even then, Koko was shaken and uncharacteristically quiet.


	25. Chapter 25

Mags had one simple and direct method of getting work. It was to rush in -or up- to someone who looked like they were having a little trouble with something and say, “Hey, can I help?” And he could lighten their load, hold a few things, or even help carry stuff to wherever.

It wasn’t a paying job, like Koko’s. You didn’t get silver or gold for running around and being helpful to people.

But maybe it could lead to something. He was bright enough, if a little unobservant. And he was willing to learn. That had to count. And for all his enthusiasm, everyone seemed to have it handled. More or less.

It was demoralising.

Koko seemed to have been born with a spatula in his hand. Merle… maybe with a silver spoon. He was the oldest of them and yet he was the most incapable. And there was Mags. In the middle. Willing to help, but ending up in the way.

He spotted Johan across the quad. Juggling bunches of parchment scrolls and having trouble with the door. So of course he rushed in. “Need some help?” he asked.

Johan, tangled up in a mixture of his own Motley, instrument case and scrolls, seemed to think about this for a pace or three too long. “Yeah sure. Hold these and try not to crush them.” And then he unloaded the scrolls into Mags’ arms. Very carefully. One at a time.

Mags could see dots and lines on some of them. “Are these… music?”

“Yeah,” said Johan. “Well spotted. A bard couldn’t possibly be carrying music.”

Mags blushed, looking down. “...sorry.” He felt ashamed to even be there. “...was jus’ tryin’ t’... Idunno… be smart.”

There was an extended silence. Followed by Johan muttering, “Oh, fuck. Sorry kid. Guess you’re kind’a stuck in the middle, aren’t ya?”

Mags bit his lip. “Yeah. Everyone loves Koko, and… Merle’s  _ helpless. _ The only people who’ve had any time f’r me are like… ‘nother kid ‘n’... Davenport.”

“Ouch,” said Johan. “That’s gotta suck.” The door opened. “Come on. You can help me out.”

Mags rushed in. Suddenly feeling a little bit more worthwhile. “I heard you playing,” he said. “You’re amazing.”

“Thanks,” moped Johan.

Mags got the feeling that Johan didn’t seem too happy about being amazing. “Is something… wrong? With being amazing?”

“Asked and answered, kid. Just carry the scrolls.”

Mags followed. Past some burly guards that made him feel small and into an enormous room with a gigantic tank and…

The world’s.

Biggest.

Jellyfish.

“HOLY SHIT!”

It was so big it had a  _ galaxy _ inside its bell!

It was beautiful.

It was amazing.

It was stupendous.

“You can see that?” said Johan.

“Yeah! It’s amazing! It’s incredible! And it’s made outta stars…” He rushed up to the tank, but realised he couldn’t reach up because of all the scrolls. “So pretty…”

“...okay?” said Johan. “That’s a bit weird.” He put things down and re-organised the parchments off of Mags’ arms, placing them into a chute attached to the tank and then pulling a lever.

Mags watched at the scrolls floated up into the tank and the giant space jellyfish ate them. Listened as Johan played the pieces he had written. Everything from joyful, through peaceful, to mournful.

The giant jellyfish bumped one of its tendrils against where Mags’ hand lay. Mags patted the tank in response. He knew better than to tap it. You didn’t tap fish tanks. That was mean to the fish.

The tendril batted back. It almost seemed… confused.

“Seriously?” said Johan. “Even  _ now _ ?”

Mags turned. Johan was looking upset. “What’d I do?”

“I’ve been looking after that thing since the Bureau started, and you just walk in any old how and you’re instantly its favourite. It’s totally a kick in the teeth.”

Mags retreated from the tank. “I didn’t mean it. I just… I just like making friends with animals…”

Johan just… slumped. At his desk. “Get outta here, kid.”

Mags slouched away. Taking the closet back up to the main space. Lost for anywhere to go, he just wandered around. Found his way into the offices of the Director.

It was a surprisingly plain space. Boring, even. A big old desk with lots of paperwork and room for more. And a big, spinny chair that Mags made himself dizzy on. And a boring old picture of Madam Director looking serious. And a door.

It seemed like a good idea to check out what was through there.

At least, until he set off every alarm in the base.


	26. Chapter 26

Merle had been learning a lot. How to take the harsh, fibrous outsides off of freshly-harvested grains. How to shell walnuts. How to grate ginger. How to prepare sweet potato and katniss, including how to dice.

He learned how gross cooking can be by taking the seeds out of the pumpkin. And he learned through Madam Director that pumpkin seeds could be roasted for a snack. But Merle insisted on saving five seeds to ‘return to Pan’ - aka: farm more pumpkins.

He learned how  _ long _ it took to cook something special and had a whole new appreciation for how Koko could zip around a kitchen like a flea on a griddle and cook like twenty things at once. Well, okay, more like have four things on the cooktop, two things in the oven, and maybe another four things under construction.

And Merle was certain that this had taken maybe five times longer than it probably should have. He had two and a half years on that skinny twerp, but Koko would have probably whipped all of this up in seconds while making three other things and a cake.

And the last thing Merle learned was how awful it felt to go without a meal.

His stomach didn’t so much rumble as thunder. And it was starting to hurt with how empty it was.

“It’s not a big deal to make you a pancake. Or you could have a slice of bread,” offered Madam Director.

The stuff they’d made for the stuffing was an inch shy of the top. Just like it should be, because some of the grains would swell up and absorb all the extra liquid. “No, I can afford to go hungry,” he said. Koko had done it. Maybe that’s how he got so fast in the kitchen. He sure knew how to  _ eat _ fast. “And you said I should be making my food.”

“Yes, but I’d hoped the lesson you’d learn was not to be so fuss--” Alarms rang out. Madam Director gasped and said, “The office,” and whirled for the door. Stopped with her hand on the handle.

“Should I… put this in the oven or wait?”

“It takes four hours to cook,” said Madam Director. "You won’t get in any trouble. Right?”

Merle thought about this. “I should be fine even if Mags decides to wrestle me.”

And Madam Director said, “Where  _ is _ Mags?” A quick tour of all the rooms. A few choice curse words, and Madam Director was outright panicking. Running for the transport closet. Muttering oaths under her breath.

Merle, left alone, knew he was up to the last step: put the pumpkin into the pre-heated oven. The problem was that the shelves were too close apart to have a pumpkin-space between them. He looked at the racks. They were wire inside slots. Maybe he could move them and--

Ow.

Okay. Maybe he could use those thick gloves to move them and not get his hands scorched in the process. Only when he was down to the last rack did he add the tray that had the pumpkin on it. A rush of self-pride filled him like light filled a room. He’d figured it out himself! Without being told, babied, or coddled into doing it with help.

But, oof, that thing was heavy.

The next problem was that the timer only did one hour. He could wind it four times. Easy.

Merle settled down with one of the books in this place’s little library.  _ Legends and Lore of Faerun. _ So it was a little immature of him to be reading fairy tales. So what? After the effort he had just gone through, he needed something a little less challenging. 

Okay. A  _ lot _ less challenging.

Merle opened it up to the index. Huh. There were some ones he’d never encountered before. In a whole section on their own.  _ Tales of the Seven Birds. _

He found the first page of the first story.  _ Once upon a time, seven birds lived in a lovely silver tree. A fleet and nimble Flycatcher, a wise old Owl, twin Turtle Doves, full of mischief… _


	27. Chapter 27

Davenport had Mags caught up in an illusion. He was always loyal to his crew. Even if he didn’t always process why people needed to be kept out of an area, he knew what to do with people who were trying it.

Mags looked like he was in the middle of his worst nightmare, huddled up on the floor at the threshold to her private and most guarded space. Whatever he was experiencing, it had made a severe impact.

“That’s enough, Davenport.”

Mags startled from the dream, saw her, and instantly scooted over to cling to her legs. “I swear I didn’t want any trouble, I was just looking around and there’s nothing to really do around here and I thought I could find something to be good at and I didn’t mean it I swear!”

“So you attempted to break into my private, personal quarters because you were  _ bored? _ ”

“No, no, no! I was just looking! I don’t know anything about anything and there was no door and I thought it was okay and please don’t put me back in with the spiders!”

Lucretia leveled a disappointed glare at Davenport. Who just shrugged in an apologetic kind of way. She sighed and devoted her attention to Mags. “Do you understand that this base has a very important mission?”

Sniffle. Sob.”Y-yes’m…”

“And as such, there’s places where a younger person should not go. Places that are dangerous. Places where we keep… things… that could be dangerous.”

“...yes’m…”

“And some places where we keep… information that can be dangerous.”

“...yes’m…”

Lucretia bent with some difficulty and smoothed his hair. “You can’t just go looking anywhere at all, Mags.”

“I know! I know! I’ll never go anywhere again! I’ll sit in my room and be real quiet forever, I promise!”

She looked to Davenport. “You overdid it, Davenport.”

Her former captain looked chagrined. Toed at the floor in contrition. “Davenport…”

To Mags, she said, “That would be a cruel thing to do to a boy like you. What you need, Mags, is somewhere to be. Some… friends. An activity more suited to your… personality.”


	28. Chapter 28

“Hello, sir! Oh! And Madam Director. I heard the alarm. Was it anything troublesome?”

Madam Director said, “A simple case of miscommunication. I understand you’re about to undergo some sparring lessons with Carey and Killian?”

“Yes, Ma’am. In just five minutes.”

“I think Mags should join in.”

Mags startled at this news. “What? Me? Fight the big Orc and the Dragon?”

“Dragon  _ born. _ ” Corrected Carey, coming up behind him. “Okay, sprout. Two things. One: It’s sparring  _ practice. _ We’re teaching you how to fight. Not actually fighting. Two: we’re actually kind‘a fun when we’re not on the clock. You should pack away that xenophobia you got going on and try to roll with what’s happening. Okay?”

Angus said, “It’s okay, sir. I do this stuff for fun every day. Sure, I can get a little banged up, sometimes, but I’m learning a lot. Especially essential stuff like how to defeat someone who’s bigger and stronger than you.”

Mags looked up at Killian, and at the smaller Carey. They were both bigger than him. He sized up Angus, who was maybe an inch or two taller if you counted the hair.

He looked up at Madam Director, who was the embodiment of a cloud of impending doom.

“Yeah, okay,” said Mags. “I’m used to getting hurt.”

“Yeah, we actually try  _ not _ to do that with kids,” said Killian.

They finished the journey to the training arena, where Killian dragged out a lot of mats, and got Angus to show Mags how to recover from a fall. Carey and Killian took turns doing the throwing, and made Mags jump off of things to practice first.

After about ten goes, Mags said. “Ooooh. This is just like Koko did after he ran up the wall. Can you teach me how to do that?”

“Little dude, I want  _ him _ to teach  _ me _ how to do that,” said Killian. “Who knew cha’boy was a flip-wizard?”

Mags tentatively raised a hand in the air. “I mean, he  _ did _ make a beautiful rainbow horse appear out of nowhere…”

“Okay, we’re getting distracted. Angus? Show Mags how you can throw. Mags, you show us how you roll.”

It was weird, tossing around someone who was only slightly bigger than he was. Angus had been certain that Carey and Killian had been faking it, but Mags did not anticipate the movement. He recovered well, rolling and regaining his feet in the smooth motion he’d been practicing.

And then he burst out in a cheer.

So did Angus.

There was a mutual chorus of, “I did it! I really did it!” And the ruff boy embraced the fancy boy, jumping up and down in glee.

“Deesh, anyone would think this is your first time tossing anyone, Ango,” chirped Carey. “You’ve been throwing us around for weeks.”

Angus wriggled out of Mags’ grip. “Yes, ma’am, but… forgive me. You’re both large enough to… well… give me an assist in that. So to speak.”

Killian’s face softened. “All this time, you didn’t believe you could do it for real?”

Angus found his own feet fascinating. Felt his face heating up. “Yes’m.”

“Huh,” said Carey. “About time we fixed that. Hey, Jorgen!”

Jorgen was on Team Heavy Hitters. They were all big burly beefy man beefs. Bigger even than full-grown Magnus. But Jorgen was the biggest and meanest looking. Nobody would guess that he pressed flowers and knitted crib caps for orphaned babies. Or that he was the biggest marshmallow on the moon. “Ja?” he said, thick Schwartzenegran accent shining through.

“Hey, get over here. We wanna teach the pipsqueak something.”

The walking mountain of a man made the earth shake. “Ja? Vot is der lesson?”

“Ango,” said Killian, “Do whatever you can to pin Jorgen. Jorgen? Don’t let him.”

Jorgen laughed. “Ah ja. Is der goot lesson. Vheneffer hyu are ready, liebchen.”

Angus ran through a list of the ways he could plausibly take down a larger opponent, and went for the least expected from a standing start. Grab the hand and pull. Lift legs up as Jorgen pulled him up. Legs around neck. Squeeze. Swing. Use inertia and surprise to flip him around and put him off balance.

Jorgen fell like an ancient redwood.

Angus got his legs and himself out of the way and captured an arm into a half nelson. Putting his small weight onto the small of the back, where it would be difficult for Jorgen to toss it off.

“HOLY SHIT!” Mags broke into applause.

“See?” said Killian. “You learned that shit.”

Angus let the giant go.

“Hyu are very qvick,” said Jorgen. “Ve alvays say, vatch out for der leedle guys.”

“That was AMAZING!” said Mags. “Show me how to do that!”


	29. Chapter 29

Koko was cleaning down the benchtops in preparation for dinner when three of the regular kitchen staff ganged up on him. Surrounded him.

“What’d I do wrong?” said Koko on instinct.

“You didn’t have breakfast with us,” said the crew. “And you’re actively skipping lunch on us, now.”

Koko tried to play it off. “I-I’m cool. I had like, a bowl of porridge before I left for work. Y’know that stuff really -uh- sticks to the ribs. ‘M I right?”

They started herding him to the chef’s table. Where there was already an interesting spread starting to happen. “You need regular meals, Koko.”

Flustered, he started to stammer. “But- there- I- I- you- this- No! This isn’t how it goes! Everyone else eats first. The boss, the army, the others.  _ Then _ the useless piece of shit they feel like keeping around for one more day. I get the leftovers. That’s how it  _ goes _ .”

Mutual looks with weird expressions. Koko had only seen it a few times, and then only on people who were trying to be kind. And who often failed at it. Not their fault.

“It doesn’t go that way, here,” said one of the staff. “Everyone eats.”

Koko gradually became aware that his hair was fluffing up like a cornered cat’s fur. That his ears were in panic position and that the air he breathed was feeling very thick. And if he didn’t chill out about this right now, he would wake up facing the giant mechanical golem lady, which scared four colours of piss out of him.

He brought the Umbrastaff around to his front from where it usually hung on his back, because it was weirdly comforting to embrace it. Focussed on pulling in proper breaths of air. Ran his thumb across the lacy ruffles near the handle.

The other staff clued on in seconds. They cared enough to clue on. Another little fact that jolted his brain with utter  _ wrongness. _ This was not the way the world worked.

The other staff let him have breathing space, but they also didn’t let him run away.

“It’s okay. It’s good food.”

Koko blurted it out. “I don’t deserve it and I don’t like when people watch me eat.”

They sat him down at the chef’s table anyway. Facing a careful selection of delicious and rich food. Mutton and clootie dumplings, glistening in thick, dark gravy. A flank of salmon, resting innocently on a bed of sweet potato and kale, almost hidden under lashings of hollandaise sauce. A selection of gleaming pastries like Koko imagined they might serve in heaven. The good stuff. The elite stuff. The stuff he could prepare but went to the Big Business without Koko even tasting a morsel.

Someone pressed a knife and fork into his hands. “You just try these and see if we got it right.”

That was some horseshit.  _ Quality _ horseshit, Koko had to admit, but horseshit all the same. He let it pass unchallenged. He did  _ want _ to eat. The scarf he’d stuffed in his pocket came out to wrap around his head. Especially the ears. He couldn’t believe he’d forgot to cover up with the first meal. He’d been eating alone too long. Too used to seclusion. Or at least eating when everyone was busy doing other stuff.

Jiggling ears around the people in his time was like waving a feather in front of a cat. And yet… being laughed at felt worse

Good, warm food made him aware of how much his body had cooled down despite working in the heat of the kitchen. His warm belly made him shiver as he ate, and he was sick of feeling that way. He had regular meals. Regular  _ hot _ meals. He should have stopped shivering when he ate already. But it happened every time he had something warm. Either he was in worse shape than he thought, or…

Something was hinky with the magics.

He kept his suspicions to himself, focussing on the food. Everything was perfect. Of course it was. These people knew their stuff. There must be an exacting head chef somewhere who Koko had never met.

Maybe that terrifying Leon guy.

Koko ate until he was aching, of course. He never let good food get away. Or, for that matter, food at all.

And while he was busy making the food vanish, the staff were packing up boxed meals. Four sizable ones. And they stacked neatly into a bag.

By the time they were done, he was done, which turned out to be excellent timing, because they needed someone to take it all to the training arena.

Four people on the base hadn’t turned up for lunch, and there was only one place they could be. Koko tried to imagine being so involved in doing something that he would forget to eat. It escaped his grasp. He could put off eating, sure. He could go without and make do on scraps, like he had a million times before. But forgetting to eat? That had to be a special kind of stupid.

Just as he was wiping his plates clean of gravy and sauce, the rest of the staff enlisted him to take the bag over and make sure Mags, Angus, Carey and Killian ate.

“And then the rest of the day is yours,” they announced, cheerful.

Koko immediately concluded, “I’m fired?”

“No. You’re just done for the day.”

“It’s literally illegal for us to keep you here any longer,” added the plongeur. “There’s underage labor laws in your future. Enjoy.”

“What about the dinner rush?” he protested. “That’s gonna start in a few.”

“Still illegal, today,” said the sous chef. “But tomorrow? You can come in for lunch and dinner if you want to even things out a bit.”

He tried to protest, and indeed, he did protest too much, because Madam Director had to turn up and glare at him to chase him out. With a bland-faced suggestion that maybe he could join the fun.

So Koko made his way to the training grounds. Using the Umbra-staff as a bindle stick so that the bag handles wouldn’t cut into his fingers. The afternoon light was starting to throw interesting shadows around the place. And it could be easy for Koko to forget that he was twenty-one miles above the surface of the globe.

_ It’s not that scary, you know, _ insisted the distant voice of the Umbrastaff.  _ I’m right here with you. _

Yeah. He was going to have to find some time to work out what was going on with everything. Starting with trying to chat with the animate spirit of his spell focus.

He had some difficulty with the doors to the training arena, and had to pirouette around to the inside. Carefully, so that he didn’t tip the lunches.

But that was nearly forgotten when he saw what was happening inside.

Three grown adults. Orc, Dragonborn, and a human mountain of a man, all pitted against two kids. Mags and Angus.

It was not a fair fight.

He put the food down carefully, because he would never let a meal go to waste. Tried to aim the Umbrastaff like it was a wand. Too heavy. He adjusted his grip. Handle against his shoulder, Other arm holding it up.

“Leave them alone!” And then he cast magic missile. One barb per adult. Six damage a slice. Nice. He expected to at least divert their attention. Put one foot back in preparation to run…

“Whoa, whoa! Time out,” said Mags. “Time out.”

The battle halted. Everyone took up non-aggressive poses. Even Angus, who had been swinging himself around Killian like she was a jungle gym.

Koko didn’t drop his aim. Not one fraction of an inch. “What the  _ fuck _ ,” he said, “is  _ happening _ ?”

“It’s a training battle, sir,” said Angus. “We’re all learning how to use our bodies against bigger foes. This is all like play-acting. None of us are hurt. I mean. None of us  _ were _ hurt before you came along.”

“Nice opportunity attack,” said Carey. “That’s some good shooting.”

Now he lowered the Umbrastaff. “Uhm. Thanks?” And then he remembered why he was here. “Kitchen staff sent me with lunch for four. Mags, Ango?” He pointed out the two non-humans who frightened him the most. “You two? Ya gotta eat.”

“Shit,” Killian blushed. “Did we forget again?”

“Time flies like an arrow,” said Carey.

“And fruit flies like a banana,” smirked Mags.

And that was it. Forgiven and forgotten. Koko still hid behind Mags and Angus from the Orc and the Dragonborn.

And decided to confide in his fellow kids.

“Hey. I’m thinking something is weird with the teenifying magics,” he began. “Like… I should be used to getting hot food by now and stuff.”

“Analysis so far has been inconclusive,” allowed Angus, walking encyclopedia. “Perhaps there’s some other exercises we could do to gather data.”

“Like what?” said Mags. “Measure our heights?”

“Why not?” said the boy wonder. “We’re all growing boys.”

And Koko said, “I’m starting to think maybe we’re not…”


	30. Chapter 30

Angus came with them to the common room, where Madam Director was helping Merle take the finished pumpkin out of the oven. The teen Dwarf was beaming with pride and excitement. It smelled delicious. It looked a little burned around the edges, but it smelled wonderful.

“Wow,” said Angus. “I didn’t think you cooked, ma’am.”

“I didn’t,” said Madam Director. "It was Merle. I just… helped out.”

Merle was smiling so hard his face was almost split in two. “Hand made, all organic, and completely vegan.”

Koko, from somewhere in the depths of his cloak, said, “Sweet. I’ve never tasted a Veeg-ass meal.”

Merle startled, looking surprised. Angus could see the young Dwarf trying to puzzle out Koko’s statement. “But… you gave me the ingredients… and I couldn’t remember all of the steps.”

“Great,” said Koko. “That means it’s not my way of doing stuffed pumpkin. You put your own Curly twist to that shit. I just started you off, pal.”

That was… very un-Taako. Angus had to wonder what happened over the intervening century and a half that made the grown version of this teen wizard into the cold and callous Taako that Angus was familiar with. The one who demanded all the attention and glory when he wasn’t busy pretending that he never needed a speck of it.

Madam Director caught this, too. “You helped Merle without prompting?”

Even under that cloak, the defensive hunch was plain. “Yeah? Nobody deserves to go hungry.” He backed away from the group. “So I helped him. So what? He’s such a massive feeb, he needed it.”

Angus cleared his throat. Time to get things back on the rails. “Ma’am… We’ve had a chance to discuss the spell that’s been effecting this team, and… Koko has a theory.”

“...you said you were gonna,” murmured Koko.

Mags put a hand on the young Elf’s shoulder. “You can do it. You’re smart and everything.”

The only thing showing outside of that cloak by now were Koko’s ugg-booted feet. “Uhm. Well… Uh. Thing is? We- we’ve been -uh- eating a lot. Some more’n others. Uhm. Andum...Our clothes? Are still loose? And I- I- I really should’a stopped shivering every time I eat like… uh… coupl’a days ago? And… like… adapted? Tuff, over here is better at it, but… It’s like… Every morning? When I wake up? For a second, I’m back in that badger hole again.”

Mags boggled and pulled up his sleeve, showing the gravel rash scabs. “Is that why this is juicy every morning and the bruise never fades?”

“It could be,” allowed Madam Director.

“We thought we could check by measuring everyone’s heights,” said Angus. “With me as a control, because I’m a normal everyday boy, ma’am.”

“Some would debate that,” allowed Madam Director. “But a simple measurement can’t hurt the others we have in our information base.” She called up NO-3113 to gather precise measurements on all four of them, and to compare them to measurements when they arrived  in their teen forms.

Something for which Koko needed a hand to hold.

He was right. Adaptation should have happened naturally by now, but he was terrified for every waking hour. Just like anyone would have after waking up with one hundred and fifty missing years. In a strange world where literally everything was different.

Angus did that duty and ignored how tight Koko’s fingers closed on his own.

NO-3113 was quick, and gentle, and kept her distance from a clearly terrified Elf. Let him retreat to a place he considered safe. In this case, it was on the couch and under both cloak and a blanket. With Mags and Merle  _ and _ Angus forming a sort of guard while Koko focussed on his breathing.

Even though all of them clearly remembered encountering NO-3113 before, each reaction they got on an emotional or instinctive level was as if they were seeing her for the first time. Every time. And Koko’s reaction was gut-level abject horror.

He was, Angus noted, getting better at keeping it in check.

“Can we eat, now?” asked Merle. “Only the pumpkin’s cooling and I haven’t eaten all day.”

Koko began to emerge from his fabric fortress. “Yeah. I think I can make it,” he said. “You want help carving and serving?”

Merle hesitated. Bit his lip. Twiddled with his hair. He was torn between two choices. Bluff and fail and be laughed at, or accept an offer to save face. He chose the latter. “You can show me how you do it a couple of times, I guess,” he said. “Never hurts to learn from a pro, right?”

Koko grinned. “Exactly, m’man.”

Angus, as temporary houseguest, was invited to share a plate. A pumpkin this huge was enough for a small army. Or a band of mercenaries. Or four hungry, growing boys and one adult with enough for leftovers.

Angus watched Koko teach Merle how to use carving implements and listened in to Madam Director talking in hushed tones to NO-3113.

“That can’t be right,” murmured Madam Director.

“That’s what Ah said,” said NO-3113. “But the data don’t lie. Angus is growin’ at a normal rate, but these other three boys… they just ain’t.”

“And this is definitely linked to the implosion of the Fantasy Costco.”

“Ah’d say it’s pretty definitely linked. Th’ Arcane Analysis crew said the Costco didn’t suffer a structural collapse. It was more like the whole durn thing  _ de-aged _ into a state before it was all assembled. There’s some mighty powerful crafting goin’ on. Y’all can’t just cast that kind’a thing off’a nuthin.”

“But who could manage that? Isolating and containing dangerous magical items is what we  _ do _ here.”

“Ah don’t know what t’ tell ya. We’re lookin’ at all the different kinds of spell forms ‘n’ all and -well- ya just can’t channel that kind’a magic without somethin’ huge behind it.”

“Not without a great amount of personal cost,” said Madam Director.

Koko sat down with a double helping of the meal that Merle had made. Thinking things through. Angus could see his mind working, for all that he looked like he was miles away. He knew that Taako wasn’t as simple as he seemed, and he had no doubt that Koko had also heard what Angus heard.

So he hung back to help Koko wash the dishes. Kept his voice low.

“Have you reached any conclusions, sir?”

Koko kept up the clatter of dishes. “Well, someone’s been breaking the rules, for sure. I keep wanting to blame that scary old gnome dude… But... “

“Actually, think the fear may be part of the spell. An aversion. I saw Mags suffer the same thing. Though… yours was more spectacular.”

“I had no control over that,” murmured Koko. “Whenever I look at him, I just… feel like he’s going to hurt me so bad. Chop me up alive. Or worse.” He shuddered.

“Hm,” said Angus, and wrote a few things down. He made an excuse to have a quiet word with Mags. “Sir? I’d like to ask you about something strange that happened earlier…”


	31. Chapter 31

Merle wasn’t expecting it when it happened. He was accompanying Angus on the way to the library for a magical research project. To whit - working out exactly what kind of magic spell had been cast or was being maintained. Koko was already in the kitchen, and Mags was ‘helping’ Carey and Killian working out a new physical course. As far as Merle understood the exercise, it was putting together assorted obstacles to train various athletic moves.

He could hear Mags’ enthusiastic whooping from across the courtyard.

But that wasn’t the focus of his attention.

He stopped in his tracks. Frozen in fear. Staring.

Across the courtyard.

At Leon.

Who may be up on his feet, but was not looking too terribly healthy. He was a weak and fragile old gnome who was using a walking frame.

“Sir?” said Angus. “Why are you afraid?”

Merle was already hyperventilating. “...he hurt me. I can’t remember, but I know he hurt me. He’s gonna do it again. Don’t- don’t let him. Don’t let him.”

Angus started to guide him away. “I won’t, sir. Let’s go this way. I’ll make sure you’re safe.”

Merle only felt safe when he could no longer see the withered old gnome. When they were safe between the stacks of the library, he would still only dare whisper. “Who was that scary old man?”

Angus was writing things down. “I’m sorry I had to do that to you sir. Each member of your team has now had… let’s call it an incident… with Leon the Artificer at the centre. You’re all afraid of him.”

“Well, yeah. He’s gonna hurt us.”

“Koko used the phrase, ‘chop me up alive’. I think that’s the general impression from all three of you. Right?”

Merle went white, which was something of a feat, considering his natural colouring. “I wasn’t thinking of being chopped up, before, but now? That really, really fits. Can you hold my hand tonight?”

“Sorry, sir, but I think I have other engagements, tonight. Maybe your team can help you out.” He wrote a few more things down. “I think asking you to keep watch over the fantasy gatchapon room would be unfair…” He found a book almost as big as he was and laid it on the reader lectern. It was a huge reference book of all sorts of magical items. Angus flipped to the appendices. “Time turner, time and relative dimensions in space, temporal booth, no…” More page flipping. “There’s other volumes that catalogue magic items. We’re looking for ones that have an area of effect involving time and ageing.”

Merle almost flattened himself on the book he withdrew. He started in the appendices like Angus did. Looking up the A’s. For Age.


	32. Chapter 32

Angus worked on his deductions. He had lists of items and statistics and flavour text from things he had found, or that Merle had found, that could fit the bill. Some were too large. Easily noticeable. Some would take too much time. All the witnesses said that the attack happened quickly. Too quickly for anyone to notice what was being done. Or who did it.

Which left him a list of five amulets and rings that could be the culprit.

So now he was interviewing NO-3113 about her treatment of Leon.

“Ah don’t understand it,” she was saying. “Everyone else has been on the mend, but Leon… He’s just sinkin’ and sinkin’ day by day. It’s like the life is drainin’ right out of him. Ah don’t know what else t’ do.”

“Are there any magical artefacts about him?” Angus asked. “Something that could -say- drain his energies?”

“Can’t say Ah’ve noticed. But then again, Ah can’t run a Detect Magic on ‘im.”

Taako could do it in a cold second. But Taako had been transformed into Teen Koko, and kept a deep and abiding terror of going anywhere near Leon at all. Any adult would ask why such a thing was necessary at all.

Though the Reclaiming had stopped, all the other work of the Bureau was humming along as much as it could with the Director… preoccupied. So Angus tried the only people with free time. Tres Horny Teens.

Koko was making a few, microscopic notes in his grimoire-of-sorts,  _ Uncle Jon’s Elven Bathroom Reader. _ A battered tome of forgotten lore that Angus knew he couldn’t read, yet. Elves usually learned the Elven alphabet at sixteen. Koko’s notes were in Common, and still indecipherable by anyone but Koko.

“Further to our investigation, sir,” Angus began. “I need to be able to do something. But first… I need to learn how to do it.”

“Eesh. Sounds kind’a complicated, li’l man.” He seemed to be listening to something Angus couldn’t hear. “Wat’cha need?” said Koko.

“Do you know how to detect magic?”

“Yeah, I picked that one up like a week ago. Could probably use some practice at it, m’self.” He flipped through the pages. Past a picture of Elven eyes that were shaded unevenly. To a bunch of oddly-spaced letters near some pictures of some interesting leaves. “Here it is.” He read out the instructions, and the incantation. And boggled at Angus. “Holy shit… parts of you are glowing…” He looked up some colours. “Divination… and that thing on your arm has some kind’a communications vibe. Your turn, Ango.”

Angus followed the instructions and saw his own belongings glowing. “Wow. That’s amazing. It really works! Thank you, sir!”

Koko was more amenable to enthusiastic hugs than his adult self, and even awkwardly returned the embrace. “Wasn’t much. I kind’a stole it off’a this wizard guy I cleaned cauldrons for, one time.”

“I’ll be back in a moment, sir,” said Angus, “I need to do this again near Leon.” He made his escape and did that, finding a glow at Leon’s pinkie finger. A deep shade of blue. Which he noted down in his book and brought back to Koko. “What does royal blue mean, sir?”

Koko looked it up. “Hachi machi… This is some bad biz. Time manipulation and… dark magic. It drains life and harms the caster as well as the victim.”

Which meant… there was only one thing it could have been!


	33. Chapter 33

Rings: (T)

Temporal Affecting Ring of Disabling Innocence Spell.

A dark blue ring of diminutive size, yet it will fit any finger. Channels an area of effect spell that reduces the enemy to a lower level of experience. The more enemies are transformed, the less they are collectively reduced.

There is a lingering effect of complete terror of the caster in the victims for the duration of the spell.

As long as the spell is channeled, it takes 2D6 from the caster’s recovery hit dice and 1D4 from their total life points on a daily basis.

If the caster does not drop the spell before they die from the after-effects, the enemy will remain enspelled at their current level.

The spell can be broken by a moment of sublime happiness in the victims or the caster, at which point, everything reverses to its original state. Whether or not the victims recall their transformation, the victim will hold a lingering animosity towards the caster that will become retroactive to the date of the former victim’s age at reduction.


	34. Chapter 34

Madam Director looked up from the object entry and glared accusingly at Leon.

“Misuse of Bureau resources,” she intoned. “Appropriation of dark magic objects. Disobeying the orders… specifically,  _ my _ orders to destroy… this ring.” She lifted his hand to display the dark blue jewelry. “You’re amongst my longest-serving and most loyal employees.  _ Why _ did you do this? And at the cost of your own life…”

“You… don’t know… what they’ve been doing to me… The most… infuriating… They’re… not idiots. They’ve been… torturing me.”

Madam Director glared at him and repeated, “The victim will hold a  _ lingering animosity _ towards the caster that will become  _ retroactive _ to the date of the former victim’s  _ age at reduction. _ In brief - you just made them all hate you enough to torture you with their stunts once they met you all over again.” She touched the hand with the ring on it. “You can stop the spell at any time.”

“I’d rather die,” Leon whispered.

“That might happen,” sighed Madam Director.


	35. Chapter 35

Kli’maq sat with Angus, Avi, and Carey. All around a table with Madam Director. And the information about the spell, the ring, and what it was doing to the Reclaimers. What it could do to the team, the bureau, and by extension, the world.

“But… what can  _ we _ do?”

“The five of us have spent some time with our… teenified Reclaimers. In order to break the curse, we need to give them a moment of sublime happiness.”

“That’s gonna be tough,” said Carey. “They all had shitty childhoods in one way or another and Koko’s scared of half of us.”

“Festo’s Beach Carnival,” said Angus. “It’s every kid’s dream. There’s something for everyone. We all go, and the Reclaimers choose who they want to go with, and it’s super happy fun times. And Festo never uses processed sugar in any of the edible treats. There’s games and rides and toys and all kinds of carnival food. You can even rent boats and fishing gear if you just want to fish and chill.” This last sentence was announced with supreme doubt that anyone at all would want to just fish and chill.

“We’ve all come to know our Reclaimers’… younger aspects,” said Madam Director. “I propose that we all tailor a perfect day for each of them. Give them each… a lot of fun. And be prepared for when the spell breaks.”

Carey was already taking notes. “Are we allowed to have fun  _ with _ them?”

“I think that might be advisable.”


	36. Chapter 36

Mags was easy, really. Three rides, some inadvisable fried food, and about thirty games to win an improbably-coloured gigantic toy dire wolf, and he burst back into adulthood like a thunderclap, still laughing. And then, very shortly, rather confused.

But like hell was he going to give up his garish toy dire wolf.

“You can’t keep  _ this _ dog off the moon,” he insisted.

Merle came back to his older self in the funhouse. Laughing at the distorted images of himself, just after he’d won a small houseplant at a duck-catching stall. He smiled vaguely at his reflected image, picked up the houseplant, and found his way back to the thronging boardwalk.

“Welcome back, sir,” said Angus.

Merle grumbled something uncomplimentary, but there was a smile hiding amongst his facial hair.

Koko… was a worry. He spent the first hour at Festo’s either clinging to Kli’maq or hiding behind Madam Director. His ears flat down and his hair a tight frizz. Jumping at every bright light and loud noise - of which there were more than plenty. He was into the fair food. Of course he was. The chance to gorge himself on funnel cakes, waffles, and apple fritters was not one he would pass by.

Angus attempted to encourage him to try a few games to win a prize, at least. To encourage Koko to play at something. But the young Elf remained skittish and nervous.

“What’s the penalty for failure?” he kept asking.

This was not the best place for him.

Especially once the adult Magnus rushed in to deliver a crushing hug to Angus. “You’re a genius, kiddo. Me an’ Merle are back to normal! I bet Taako cast Blink like five seconds ago. Am I right or am I right?”

“You’re wrong,” sighed Kli’maq. “He’s cast ‘hide under my cloak’.”

Angus felt a need to defend as Magnus put him down. “Koko has good reason to fear anything sudden, sir.”

Magnus already looked stricken. He only wanted bad people to be afraid of him. Not scrawny, underfed Elves who seemed afraid of the world. He may have teased Angus, but with Koko, he gentled. Got down on a knee and gentled his voice.

“Hey now. It’s okay… I won’t hurt you. I was Mags like five minutes ago. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Koko peeked around Kli’maq’s arm. One green eye sizing up the astonishing change in Mags. “...you used to be mags?” he squeaked.

Magnus smiled. “Yeah. I don’t remember much of my -uh- second childhood, but I remember you. And there’s good news. We’re friends as grownups. It’s all gonna be okay.”

For the first time in the day, Koko eased away from Kli’maq and Madam Director. He was looking for the remnants of Mags in the scarred and bearded face of Magnus.

“Come on, buddy,” Magnus cooed.

And just when Koko was out of flinch-range of anyone, someone in black robes rushed between them all and snatched up the teen Elf.

Madam Director aimed her staff. Angus aimed his wand. Kli’maq started to run after the dark-clad figure. But he didn’t get two steps into the chase.

Because Magnus threw his Chance Lance. Right through the guy’s neck.

He dropped like a stone, on top of the screaming Koko.

Magnus lifted the body aside. Angus was able to remove the bloodstains with Prestidigitation. Madam Director helped Koko control his breathing and calm from his initial panic and Kli’maq gave the details to the authorities.

The late child-snatcher had been taking young Elves. Koko had been telling the unvarnished truth about being a walking fortune in dark magic ingredients. What he hadn’t mentioned was that lots of dark magicians liked to obtain the parts before the Elf in question went through puberty. The younger, the better.

They had warnings up in Elvish, but… so very many people kept ignoring them.

Koko cling to Magnus like a barnacle. “I want  _ him _ to keep me safe.”

Magnus scooped him up into a hug that almost made Koko vanish inside his arms. “There ya go, buddy. You’re safe.”

Koko’s feet dangled out as Magnus stood, and a shock of golden blond curls spilling out over Magnus’ right elbow uncurled slowly from fright wig frizz to a lazy, long fall of straight, golden hair. Magnus set Koko down, but Koko did not let go of one hand.

“All right,” smiled Magnus. “Where to? Rides? Games? Food? What’s fun for Koko?”

Everyone else had been trying to lure an answer to that question out of him all day. But it was Magnus’ rustic hospitality that made Koko speak up. “Actually, I’d like to go fishing.”

Angus had never felt such a moment of vertiginous betrayal. “ _ Fishing? _ You could be doing anything... but fishing?  _ Really? _ ”

“Yeah, m’dude, it’s perfect,” said Koko. “Isolation from the crowd, perfect vantage all around, peace and quiet, nobody can get to you,  _ and _ there’s a dinner at the end of the day. It’s everything I need.”

“But fishing is boring,” objected Angus.

Koko let go of Magnus so he could grip Angus’ shoulders and look him in the eye. “Do not wish for a life of excitement, little pal. I have been on the run for a year and a half and I  _ pray. Daily.  _ For  _ boring. _ I fucking love boring. It means there’s no more trouble to run from.”

And then he went back to Magnus’ hand and pointed the way to the boats.

And Angus spent the rest of the day in a daze, wondering what could happen to anyone that could make them want a boring life. And how Taako had changed his mind in the century plus between thirteen and -- a hundred and late-fifties?


	37. Chapter 37

The boat was big enough for three and Lucretia would never know what possessed her to join Magnus and Koko in it. Maybe it was because she and Magnus had never hung out enough. Maybe it was because she’d never fished once. Maybe it was because she wanted to make certain that Koko was having fun.

Maybe she wanted to give him the favour of pseudo-parental company.

Maybe she wanted to be certain that he was safe after such a close call.

No matter the motive, she let herself relax a little as Koko showed her how to bait and cast. He must have learned to fish before he hit the road, because he settled into the pattern of it like a pro.

Lucretia left her staff in a special bag of holding she had at her hip, and followed Koko’s instructions. Watching the bobber on the water and letting the silence fill the air.

Presently, Koko leaned against her. He’d pushed back the hood of the coat and was enjoying the sunshine. Sun Elves, by their very nature, were immune to melanomas, but she and Magnus had to wear a hat each.

They all startled as a bobber twitched.

Once. Twice. And down. It was Lucretia’s. She pulled on the rod, with Koko helping her play the fish and Magnus helping her keep the rod in her hands. Together, they bought in a huge bass.

“Sweet,” said Koko. “That’s yours, I gotta catch mine.”

“It’s big enough to share,” said Lucretia.

“No point in fishing if you don’t catch a fish,” said Koko. He checked his bait and cast again, leaning up against her. As if it was nothing at all to prop himself up against someone.

And in the silence that followed, there was something else filling the air.

Soft at first. Low and unsteady, but gaining depth and power.

Koko was purring.

Lucretia smiled, wrapping an arm gently around his shoulders. She hadn’t heard either of the twins purring since Tessauralia… Hearing it again, even from one Elf, was like a rare and precious gift.

Magnus carefully joined the embrace. Not saying a word, lest he spoil the magic of the moment.

The catfish almost pulled Koko off the boat. It was big. Bigger than anything they’d seen in the quiet lake. Bigger than logic might allow.

Magnus grabbed Koko. Lucretia did likewise. Koko freed one hand to seize the Umbrastaff…

BOOM!

And the next thing she knew, she was on the shore and her ears were ringing and there were chunks of fried catfish falling out of the sky like rain, and there was a blanket around her shoulders and Koko was wet and laughing like a maniac…

And a second explosion rent the air.


	38. Chapter 38

Koko snapped awake, grabbing reflexively for his sister. Who was still there. Same dingy little warren they’d taken shelter in. Same wicked cold and hunger he’d tried to sleep off with Lulu by his side.

“Uh-uh. They’re still out there,” she whispered.

“Had a nightmare,” he breathed, barely making a sound. “There was this city in the sky, and it had everything, but there was this scary old gnome dude…” Details were fading. “I could hear your voice, sometimes, but you sounded all grown up… and I couldn’t remember you…”

Lulu put her hand over his mouth. “Ssshh…”

He put his over hers. Listening as footsteps came dangerously close to their burrow. As the bad person chanted, “Heeeere, bunny, bunny, bunny,” half to themselves.

There’s been a big, strong brute in his dream, Koko thought. A big, beefy, man-beef. Who had good hugs and gentle eyes.

Just a dream.

But the face of that terrifying old gnome?

That face, Koko would never forget.

If he met that old viper ever again? Koko would make his life a living hell.


	39. Chapter 39

Taako was back, baby. And he would never admit it, but he remembered every detail of being a teen in this time. Almost every detail. The Umbrastaff had been… talkative? But now that he actively tried to remember, it all felt like static in his dome.

A piece of fried catfish bounced off the brim of his hat and into his hand. He used the distraction to avoid any questions from any of the Festo’s staff. By eating a generous mouthful.

Perfectly cooked, he had to admit. Flash-fried by a gigantic fire spell that the Umbrastaff had wanted to cast. He  _ knew _ that thing was sort-of alive.

“Sir?” said a Festo’s security goon. “Do you know what happened here?”

Taako shrugged. “Fuck if I know, but this fish needs some salt. And paprika. And definitely a tub of aioli. Can you arrange that, bubala?”

Nobody would ever know. Not now. Not ever. That he had enjoyed fishing with Maggie and Madam Lucy.

 

END!


End file.
